The Dolores Doctrine
by mediaboy
Summary: In a post-Voldemost British Empire, Harry Potter rejoins society after a long period of Umbridge-enforced solitude in a manor house won by conquest. What is the Granger Institute, why do the Unspeakables want to talk to him, and just what happens if you ignore all your mail for fifteen years? Rating provisional. AU.
1. Midnight at the Manor

Sometimes it just takes a minute. Not a glorious minute of noise and adulation, but a quiet minute spent in quiet reflection after one too many drinks. It is in that rare moment that you have to face yourself reflected in the bottom of a glass and wonder if it was really all wo-

He stopped thinking, and after a careful moment poured himself another glass. The empty bottle fell on the floor, joining the pile.

His eyes went distant, looking back over the past. Those that knew him would swear that for a moment he seemed to lift weight off his shoulders, young age no longer suppressed by sodden liver and sodding past. It didn't last for a minute. It never did. The past swelled up again around him, darkness pulling him back.

He silently summoned another bottle, letting magic spark idly around his fingers for a second. Rolling his hand he let it spark as he contemplated the bottle. Shrugging, he tossed the glass behind him, hearing the smash as it hit the wall. They would tidy it away with the bottles, as they did every night.

He drank deep. Maybe tonight he could find rest. Maybe tonight his ghosts would agree that he'd done enough.

Maybe tonight, at least the bottle would agree with him.

Something to look forward to.

* * *

"It's no use, not tonight. He won't answer." It had the tone of exasperation that all women had perfected when the world was being silly and ignoring their advice.

Her partner shrugged it off. "We have to try. Orders."

She stuck her tongue out at him behind his back. A small victory, but she'd take what she could get. Some people were too tied up in their work for their own good. He didn't notice, or ignored it if he did. Measured strides across the ground neither faltered nor changed, eating up the ground as the smaller women rushed to keep up.

They made a strange couple. One tall and stern, with forbidding black robes sweeping aroud his broad shoulders, the other short and curvy, green hair framing purple eyes on a pastel-pink robed witch. The biggest similarity lay in their gear, both sprouting an old-fashion pistol on one hip and a longsword on the other, his with an ornate steel guard, hers with a simple silver hilt. Wooden wands lay loosely in their right hands, with both wearing a small shield framing a clenched fist on their hands speaking for their unspoken authority.

The knocks resounded through the chill night air, echoing off of trees and darkened windows, silencing the passing rustles of wildlife. Three thuds. Even and measured. A minute passed. Scowling, the man hit the door again, andthen again. Three times three knocks echoed.

Still silence, aside from the faint crackling of an open fire somewhere deep within the manor.

"Maybe not tonight." The girl's voice whispered, staring at the door looming above them.

The scowl tossed her way would have, did make, lesser mortal quake. Touching his wand lightly to his head, he spat out a torrent of words before tossing his hand out, turning to watch the silver owl burst from the end and fly amongst the trees, disturbing any wildlife that had not been roused by his knocks. The Minister would want to know immediately, and probably demand a report when they returned nonetheless. He was not really in a mood for her snide comments tonight.

Staring into the trees waiting for a reply, he nearly missed the gasp from his partner as a cold voice spoke, "Expecting company?" The tall man spun, wand flying towards the doorway, where another leaned tiredly, silhouetted against light falling from what would probably be the manor library. The dry tone continued dismissively, "You're disturbing the kid."

Scowling was promptly directed at the owner of the manor, who bore it without flinching. The lady appeared ready to fly into the house, tackling the owner and all. Placing a cautionary hand on her arm, the enforcer spoke, "Fourteen years. Fourteen fucking years to answer the fucking door."

The witch beside him promptly solved her dilemma of rushing into his arms or fleeing from his property by fainting, falling forwards with a dull thud between the two men. Tense air turned wry as a glance passed between the men. Some things never changed.

Wordlessly the occupant gestured onwards into the house before casually waving a hand at the dead weight witch, levitating her upwards and inwards. "It's true then?" The bottle paused for a second on it's journey upwards at the outburst. "You don't need a wand." A casual shrug, a not-so-casual drink. Some questions were so obvious they didn't deserve answering.

"Whiskey?"

"Not tonight."

"So business"

"Of a kind."

"With her no less. I thought they didn't send marri-"

"They don't."

"Ah." He threw back the tumbler of whiskey thoughtfully before setting it down on the table next to him. "Best of luck then."

"It's a legal problem."

"I won't help."

"I don't expec-"

Harry shook his head.

Silence fell, except from the breathing, and the tinkle of the whiskey as the tumbler was refilled. The two men watched each other, the witch unconscious between them.

The younger man shifted his weight slightly. "So business"

"They want you back."

"I'm an old man Lupin."

"I'm twenty years older. You're not even thirty five yet. Nothing to a wizard"

The young man winced slightly. "I feel older."

"I don't think they'll take no."

"They insisted on it for the first ten. They've left em along for another five. If they remember anything of who I was they'll do so for anot-" his attention tailed off as the fire flickered a different colour in the ornate fireplace, "You came alone?"

Remus glanced at the still unconscious woman. "Just the two of us."

Harry nodded thoughtfully before picking himself out of his chair. "Just a minute then. Tell Tonks to stop pretending. Metamorphagi return to their original appearance when they genuinely collapse."

The hair of the witch on the table went bright red as she stood up, her embarrassed glance catching only the billowing cape as Harry strode out the door.

Remus smirked a bit. "Told you he'd recognise it."

"Got us in though dinnit?"

The wizard rolled his eyes as Tonks brushed herself off. The window flashed for a second, lights burning across the pane. "Guess we were followed?"

Remus' eyes flickered for an instant. "I'm not surprised."

Harry re-entered, placing a couple of wands on the table next to him as he sat down. He glanced at Tonks before flicking his fingers idly, a conjured chair springing into existence next to Lupin's.

"Whiskey?"

"Nah Harry, it's a work night."

"So I've heard."

Tonks eyed the chair apprehensively before flicking her wand and changing the upholstery to a flowery pattern. "S'been a while."

"Just a bit."

"Liking what you've done to the place. No more gits right?"

"Not here at least." His eyes flickered.

"Good I s'pose. Malfoy Manor s'always full of 'em before."

An eyebrow twitched, and Harry's hand tightened around the whiskey glass (once more full). "I wouldn't say it was go-"

"She didn't mean that." Lupin cut across, the older man's anger flaring across his face for once. Tonks winced, backing down into her chair a little, sinking into the lush cushions.

There was a moment, not a minute, of silence. There always was before the storm.

Harry set the tumbler down again. "Should I expect more company?"

Lupin and Tonks shared a look, before confirming that they were the only ones that they knew about.

Harry smiled coldly, "Good. We won't be disturbed further then. I suppose you have some letters for me?"

"There's all the ones we sent in the post of course, but a few that we were asked to try to deliver by hand by various parties." Lupin reached into his jacket, pulling out a selection of letters. "The Unspeakables would like a word, as would the Minister." Two letters landed in Harry's lap followed by a significantly larger one, "Gringotts also asked you to kindly respond to at least one letter this year."

Tonks took over, pulling letters out of various pockets. "Hogwarts passed this onto me, the Order asked me to give this to you." Remus shot her a look. "What? It's not like we weren't coming here this year anyway!"

Harry sighed and put the stack of letters on the table next to the rapidly depleting whiskey bottle. "Anything else?"

"Just this." Tonks pulled out a thick folder and was starting to open it before Harry's hand was held up.

"I recognise what type of folder it is and the answer is no. I don't work for you. Not now. Never again. I did enough of that."

"Harry, this is… a unique probl-"

"I said no."

Lupin sighed before leaning forwards, "Please, we'd just like you to consid-"

Harry snapped his fingers, silencing Lupin, anger burning across his face. "I'd like you to leave now."

Tonks tried to speak, only to discover that she too had been silenced. Shooting Harry a bad look, she tossed the folder onto the chair, stuck her fingers up at him and dragged Lupin out behind her.

Harry stood at watched, anger boiling around him. "Harry?" A red-headed girl stood at the top of the stairs, looking at the open door.

Harry was silent for a minute, taking a deep breath before turning round, "It's okay Molly, it's okay. Back to bed okay?"

The door shut as the wards rippled, letting the two cloaked figures pass unharmed. The wizard walked up the stairs, looking in through the door at the fourteen year old girl, who was already drifting off to sleep.

Sometimes he wondered if he had enough moments left with her before she would disappear from his life like everyone else had.

Sometimes he thought that he didn't really have a choice. Moments were… difficult.

He tucked her in.

* * *

The ministry was as alive as ever. It no longer slept, even late at night. The older man stormed through the atrium, past the fountain that had been damaged and repaired so many times that no one knew what it was supposed to represent, let alone what it was supposed to look like. Too much curse damage for the builders to work, the architect had said.

Lupin snorted. Fat chance of that. They'd managed to repair Hogwarts and Diagon Alley, and both had seen the brunt of the fighting. But he didn't blame the builders. He had seen the plans for the fountain that the Minister had wanted. No one wanted to memorialise what she claimed her role in the war had been, no one that knew the truth at least.

Standing in the lift, a memo butted him in the stomach until he grabbed it with a snarl. 'Report to me immediately'

He swore and jumped off the elevator a floor higher than he intended, sweeping into the cold office that Dolores had made her home for the years past the war. "Can I help you Minister?"

"How was he?"

Remus glanced at the toad-faced woman and debated, briefly, telling her the truth. A broken man, alcoholic and forgotten by the world for who he actually was, wanting to forget his glories and failures in the bottom of a glass. He would never give her that satisfaction, not after how they treated him. "We managed to deliver the letters Minister."

"Thank you Enforcer Lupin. Dismissed."

He shuddered. He had never liked her or the pink dresses she wore, nor the magic eye that was still stuck to her door. Poor Moody. His mind turned back to the war.

He didn't think Harry was the only one who needed to get drunk tonight.

* * *

Back at the manner, Harry looked at the letter from Hogwarts once again. It had been at the top of his pile and it had been the first he opened.

It still didn't make sense.

He carefully set down the glass of whiskey, untouched, before summoning a large bottle of water and downing it. He would need to be sober tomorrow. He glanced at the letter again before summoning a second bottle of water and a hangover preventative. Thanking the Weasley twins for the good things they had managed in life he tossed water and pill back in a practiced manner

With slightly less blurriness he glanced once more at the parchment in front of him.

_'Headmaster Albus Dumbledore requests your presence at a meeting.'_

Some times you definitely needed to be sober.


	2. Hogwarts and the Headmaster

"Welcome to Hogwarts Centre for Magical Education of Wizards and Witches. How can I help you this morning sir?"

Harry looked over the line in front of him, the nauseatingly simper of the blonde witch handling the reception line grinding on his patience, as it had for the last two hours. The school had obviously been extended dramatically since the war, probably as part of the renovations. He had recognised the main core of the castle as he approached, the grey stone walls rising imposingly above the lake – which was as cold and dark as he had always remembered it – but there had been entire sections of the castle that he hadn't recognised, glass and metal.

He twitched. It resembled the architecture that had grown to dominate muggle culture in the Greater British Territories over the last few years. There were always links, but still, one had to wonder: did they have to build things quite so ugly?

"I'm sorry sir, but we aren't allowed to give out details of our students to anyone but their guardia- oh I see sir. Do you have any identi- no sir, red hair doesn't quail- I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you continue shouting like that, please stay calm sir."

Harry rolled his eyes at the conversation and tapped his pocket idly, checking that the letter from Hogwarts was still there, feeling his wand in it's wrist holster, his second wand by his leg, the dagger on his waist. Old habits died hard, just like dark wizards. Second wands had become common, especially after Ginny had been tak-

"Sir, hello sir? Can I help you sir?"

He dragged his mind back to the present and stepped up to the desk.

"Hello sir and welcome to Hogwarts Centre for Magical Education of Wizards and Wit-"

"I'm here to see Albus Dumbledore." He dropped the parchment on the desk in front of him.

The witch glanced at it, obviously annoyed that her spiel had been cut off. "I'm afraid he died fifteen years ago."

"Nonetheless."

"We simply can't help you sir, and the exit is to your ri-"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist."

"Sir, he's dead."

"Could I suggest fetching a superior?"

"Sir, no matter who you talk to, Albus Dumbledore is dead."

"I fail to see a problem." Harry leaned forwards, hands on either side of the desk, "I am seeing Albus Dumbledore today, whether I have to go to his grave and raise him from beyond, or his office, which I believe is still temporarily locked, and his portrait." Flicking his eyes around him, he pulled a key from his sleeve and surreptitiously showed it to her, letting the embossed Hogwart's emblem speak for itself.

The witch paled, "You can open the headma- how do you know that it's locked? That's a state secret."

A lazy smile crossed his face, "Quite."

"Please stay here one second sir, I need to fetch a superior"

Harry rolled his eyes, and flicked his eyes around the room again. Constant vigiliance. Moody had drilled that much into all of his students, and more of them had survived the war than anyone had hoped. The three wizards, obviously together, presumably here to complain about some minor problem. Their kids, undoubtedly. The tall quiet blonde witch behind them, barely eighteen. Seeking a job perhaps, a reference? He couldn't quite place it. He was out of touch with the world, no matter what training he had.

Concentrating, he worked his will and cast a spell out into the air. Spare minutes should always be used to gain information. Another thing that Moody had drilled into all of them. He noted with quiet satisfaction the monitoring charms secreted around the room, a defence ward printed around the desk, a secondary ward under her desk that was linked somewhere. He let his eyes glance through the wall for a second, somewhere south. London perhaps. It wouldn't be unexpected for Hogwarts to have a direct link to the ministry these days, with a permanent High Inquisitor in lieu of headmaster.

"Excuse me sir, they're waiting for you."

He nodded to the reception witch and walked through the door that she indicated. She hadn't said who, she didn't need to. There weren't many people with the clearance to talk on the subject, and even fewer who would be present immediately at Hogwarts. It was unlikely the Minister was here, which was probably for the best. He had never got along with Dolores, especially after the Wizengamot war trials.

Glancing at the person's robes his eyes flickered from identification to identification. Professor. Gryffindor Head. And…

"High Inquisitor."

"Oh. My. God. It's you isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, can I help you?" Harry leaned away from the excitable little man who was practically bouncing up and down in front of him, his sparkling robes flying in all directions.

"When she said someone was here about the headmaster's office, I just knew it, I just knew it. It had to be you! Who else would know?"

Harry peered closely at him, a puzzled look gracing his face. "I have absolutely no idea who you are."

"We went to school together! Don't you remember me? You must remember me!"

"Yeah, we, uh… You were in Gryffindor right?" Harry let his voice tail off, trying to place the an, trying not to reveal that he only knew as much as that thanks to the number of identification badges strewn around the man's robes.

"Yeah, I knew you'd remember me! Well come on then, let's go to the headmaster's office and see what you can do about it"

"Just like that?" Harry let himself be escorted along the corridor, his eyes flicking through the open doorways as they passed through the main part of the castle. A stack of textbooks, transfiguration and charms. A training dummy, set to the lowest level for duelling. An upper balcony to the Great Hall. Hogwarts never stopped changing, it was part of the charm of the building. Adapting to the needs of the inhabitants. Which is why Harry wasn't really entirely sure why there was the monstrosity outside, the glass roof visible from every exterior window they passed.

"…and this is where they teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. We're working on establishing a new post-NEWT exam to help ease into the Granger Institute's program.."

Harry caught the apparent tour guides addendum and butted into the man's spiel, "The Granger Institute? I haven't caught up with all the events of the last ten years yet. What is it?"

"Further Education, I think they're calling it. A bridging point between Hogwarts and the wider Magical World." The man looked around before leaning in to whisper, "If I'm honest, wizards and witches just weren't leaving Hogwarts with the needed qualifications to work for the Ministry or most of the magical industries! There just wasn't enough masters left after the war to train up new apprentices, so Professor Granger set up a-"

"Hermione?!" His incredulous tone must have showed, "Hermione set up a school? Jesus. I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised."

"Yeah, um, she, kind of. Yeah." The man gave him a funny look. Presumably Harry should have kept more up to date with the real world. He kicked it out of his mind: not really his problem either way.

"So here's where the headmaster's office was last known to be." They stopped in front of what looked to be a blank piece of wall.

Harry glanced left and glanced right and then snapped his fingers, shoving his magic into the wall in front of him. He wasn't particularly surprised when Hogwarts slapped his mind and gave him directions. "This is a stone wall. There isn't an office here. Follow me."

Stalking off, he heard the man trip behind him. It rang a bell, clumsiness was not that common in Gryffindor. Spinning he pointed a finger, "You're Dennis. Dennis Creevy."

"So you _do_ remember!" The man's grin was infectious and Harry felt himself smiling back.

"We thought you'd gone and copped it last I heard. Glad to hear you're okay. And Colin?"

Dennis flinched. "Werewolves."

"I'm sorry" And Harry was.

"But here we are. Shall we?" Dennis turned slightly, hiding his face, but not hiding the catch in his voice.

Coughing nervously, Harry walked onwards down the passageway, the directions flashing as a set of images from what felt like a very irate mind.

"Do you still use the sorting hat?"

Dennis recovered himself slightly, if still a little more sombre than previously, "It hasn't been seen in years. It's all done by questionnaire at the minute."

Harry stared at him incredulously before shaking his head. Hogwarts without the sorting hat. Not that it was the Ministry's fault. It was, he admitted to himself, probably his. He should have come here a long time ago. He finally recognised where he was going too. He half-smiled as a familiar gargoyle appeared from around a corner.

"Password" it said, in a rather bored tone.

"Here? This is just where the Broken Gargoyle hangs out."

Harry glanced at the Gargoyle, which was yawning, obviously not quite awake. "Password, password, password, password, password." It repeated, droning in a monotone.

"It just does that for hours?" Harry flicked his glance over to Dennis.

"Yeah, so long as it can see someone."

Harry nearly laughed. Pulling out his wand, he walked up to the Gargoyle, "Let me in or I blow your head off."

"Passwo-" The gargoyle's eyes rolled round to meet Harry's eyes, before visibly gulping, all traces of sleepiness disappearing. It was hard to tell who had the stonier stare.

For a second, Harry thought that the gargoyle might have forgotten him and one of the more memorable incidents during the war. It had been a long day and he wasn't in the mood to piss around guessing a password that he swore the Gargoyle changed just to annoy him, so he'd just blasted his way through the snidely commenting statue.

Normally impervious to spells and willing to take the piss, it had laughed as his first blasting charm had soared through the air, and then spent the next month swearing at him as he slowly pieced it back together.

After a second, it remembered. It twitched. Then, it moved.

"Thank you." Harry walked on past it, casually stepping over it's outreached foot as if statutes trying to trip you up were an every day occurrence. "I'd like to have the moving staircase too please."

"That was so cool!"

"Lockhart always had a certain imitable style about him."

Dennis' eyes hardened for a second, his overbearing grins fading. "I thought he was a fraud."

"I never said he wasn't." Reaching the top of the staircase, Harry casually pushed open the door, collecting the dust out of the air with a wave of his wand.

Looking at the rather large ball of dust in front of him, and ignoring the somewhat more sober Dennis, he eyed up the quidditch pitch in the distance. Jabbing his wand, the ball flew dramatically, straight through the hoops, before bouncing onwards into the forest.

A voice cut through the air, "Ten points to Gryffindor I think, Mr Potter. I do not remember you playing Chaser though. A new skill perhaps?"

"Albus. It's good to see you." Harry glanced up at the headmaster's portrait, one of the few that remained in the office. He was not surprised that many of the other wizards had chosen to visit their other portraits, or otherwise move on. With no headmaster, the office would prove tedious, most probably.

"It's been a while."

"That it has. I hear you wanted a word?"

Albus' eyes gazed past Harry, staring at the man behind him, "Thank you Dennis. Mr Potter will be able to leave the premises without your assistance."

"Er, of course Headmas- I mean Albus. Anything you need, just shou.." he tailed off as the others in the room stared at him, "Yes, er, of course. Nice seeing you again Harry."

He backed out cautiously, closing the door behind him, his footsteps audible as he ran down the stairs.

"He's enthusiastic I suppose." Harry waved his wand after the wizard, sealing the gargoyle, the staircase and the upper door, before conjuring a chair to sit in.

Albus looked at the door before nodding, "Yes, yes he is. Perhaps not the most talented of the applicants for the role, but the one who would do the least damage to the school in lieu of a headmaster. I wish that you could have been convinced otherw-"

Harry's mouth tightened a little, "Dark wizards aren't allowed to become headmaster."

"Because that would have stopped you?" Albus raised an eyebrow as only he could do, before peering over the infernal half-moon glasses. "We both know, Mr Potter, that the only reason you were convicted is because you wanted to be convicted."

Harry waved a hand. "It's Lord Potter these days. The ministry gave me a few titles after the war."

"I know," a smug smile played across Dumbledore's lips, "Would you believe that it is the Greengrass family's youngest son that told me?"

"I thought the Greengrass family were all killed. Who did I miss?"

"Astoria, the younger daughter, was not part of the Death Eaters. Neither was she sorted into Slytherin. I believe that she was one of Ginny's friends for a while, as Ravenclaw and Gryffindor shared classes for a year."

"Ginny had lots of friends."

"The best of us always do."

"I don't suppose there's anyway th-" Harry stopped suddenly before shaking his head as he lowered it into his hands. "No answer please. Not for that one."

Albus said nothing, a brief moment of concern fleetingly passing through his eyes as he watched Harry sink his head into his hands.

There was a moment of silence.

"Onto business Albus, please. I do not like to leave my house."

"You only had to stay there ten years, it has been nearly fifteen. Lord Potter, you have responsibilities. Take them up."

"A dozen votes on the Wizengamot that I don't want. A child who spends three days a year at my house and no more. A wife with no grave because no one found a body. A job that I can't claim and don't want because a person I should have killed took the ministry, took the courts, and created so many charges against me that they would have been a fool to let me walk free."

Harry rose from the chair suddenly, striding to the window trying to catch his breath, his speech getting carried away from him. "No Albus, I don't have responsibilities. I had one and only one." Sparks flew from his wand as he clenched his fist round it, "The murder of Voldemort and his thrice damned followers. I did that, every marked followed lies dead by my hand. What I have now is existence."

"And yet you came to see me when I asked."

"It is healthy to maintain a decent respect for the memory of a great wizard, especially one that trained you."

"How far does that respect go? Can I ask a favour, if you will not listen to me?"

"One favour. Nothing big, or dangerous. No grand plans, no lies and deceit. Can you manage that old man?"

Albus smiled congenially, "Speak to Hermione."

Harry physically flinched, pushing himself away from the window and back towards the perch that once had Fawkes balanced on it, where only dust remained.

He touched it with a finger silently, remembering the ghost of a memory, "I said nothing dangerous."

"Come Harry, she is hardly going to hu-"

"After two years in a tent, with only each other for company after that red haired bastard left her? She viewed what I became after we'd finished your precious treasure hunt as despicable. I'm not worried about being hurt" Harry's stormy eyes passed up to meet the portraits. "I'm worried that she's going to kill me before I even finish saying hello."

"She will understand that you did what had to be done. That you stood up and did what was necessary."

Harry's hand slashed through the air, silencing the portrait. "Even Sirius hated me by the end. And you Albus. You told me that I had fallen. That I was as good as dead." Anger fell away, gaunt eyes looking hollowly into the distance, "Sometimes I wonder if I might be better that way."

Albus mouthed emptily for a few seconds before realising. Rolling his eyes, the purple robed headmaster stepped into the next frame across in the office. "Death is somewhat boring Harry."

There was silence again, before Harry spoke, his eyes falling to the floor, "I thought it was supposed to be the next great adventure. Dumbledore's next experiment into the nature of reality."

There was a tone of dry cynicism, "So far there have been no virgins and precious few dragons to kill. I had hoped for at least one dark lord to keep myself busy, but with Grindelwad and Voldemort, I suppose that I have fought more than my fair share."

Harry let loose a bark of laughter. "We both know how you defeated Grindelwad. And we both know I killed Voldemort. The only dark lord you ever faced was me."

"You are not a dark lord."

"Tell that to the ministry."

"You did what needed to be done for the greater good."

"Tell me Albus, do you remember how you died?"

"You know as well as I that portraits only have the knowledge they are given." Dumbledore's portrait rubbed his eyes tiredly for a second, "I suppose that you are going to tell me that you murdered me."

"I did what I was told to do. You died in Diagon Alley, having just left Gringotts, at the hands of Harry Potter, yes." Harry sank back into a seat, summoning it without waving his wand, "That was the first stage of your grand plan. The death of Albus Dumbledore."

"It was necessary"

"It was painf-"

"I know. And I knew. Though, curiously, no one seems to be able to tell me what happened. They tell me about a duel, but not why, or when, or how."

Harry's voice went flat, "A history lesson. You brought me here for a history lesson."

"You did always want to teach."

"Not History."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, "Someone has to after your little accident with Binns"

"You're the one that told me I had to test the spell on someone already dead."

"I was hoping that you would choose Peeves."

"I like Peeves"

"God only knows why"

"Kindred spirits, I think" Harry smirked. "Are you sure you want to know how everything ended?"

"Tell me how it started." There was a note of challenge, a hint of desperation.

Harry met the portrait's eyes without flinching, "From the beginning?"

"From the beginning."


	3. Professor Potter's History Lesson

Dennis quickly ran towards the office that he had adopted as his own near the transfiguration department, letting his facade drop. His wand had settled back into it's holster after a long time of being held at the ready, and he no longer held the incantation for the shield spells in his mind.

Protocols. Procedures. Rules.

Flicking off a messenger patronus to the front desk, ordering the start of the evacuation, he knelt down in front of his fireplace and connected to the law enforcement office.

"He's here."

* * *

Harry looked up at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, complete with the silver rimmed glasses and rubbed his head tiredly. "The beginning. It's a big place."

"You left me at the Dursleys. I hope you remember that much. I wouldn't say that they were good for nothing, they provided an adequate distraction for Voldemort over a few years whilst I hunted down some of the Death Eaters, but they were probably the worst guardians you could have found for me..

Harry's eyes fell away from the portrait, "I suppose you were trying to avoid another Riddle, and I won't deny it was effective in some ways."

"The Weasleys, of course, took me under their wing. I trust you remember Ron. And Hermione." A smile crossed his smile faintly as he stared into the distance. "The troll. Quirrell's troll. Or maybe yours, you never said. Either way, an adequate lesson to learn. Authority, no matter where, no matter whose, is not unquestionable."

"I presume that was you trying to avoid another Nuremgard. Another massacre. Another blind sheep. Riddle possessing a defence teacher and trying to kill me was nearly as dangerous as letting Lockhart anywhere near me."

His brow crinkled, his eyes focusing on the room once more, darting around the bare shelves, his hand unconsciously travelling over old scars, "I don't believe that I need to talk to you about the Basilisk. But Lockhart. There he was. A fraud, a trickster, a liar. Of course I noticed. That was the point of Quirell. But not completely useless."

Harry swept to his feet, pulling his cloak around him dramatically, "Lord Harry Potter, vanquisher of evil, ravisher of gingers and winner of the most handsome house imprisoned noble of the 21st century for ten years running." He let the cloak drop, his robes settling around him once more. "Showmanship, style, how to impress. How to lie convincingly."

"Was that what I was supposed to learn from him Albus?"

The portrait said nothing, letting the bitter echoes fade away.

"Lucius and Draco, of course. My first introduction to the beautiful world of the Death Eaters. Giving your weapon a taste of the chase." His hand idly traced a scar hidden beneath his robes, "Would you believe that the Malfoys actually managed to land a cutting curse on me when I went for them? They were one of the families to die out completely. They were prepared. Too prepared. It's what gave away Ron in the end."

Harry closed his eyes, frozen in the centre of the office, the weight of a million worlds pressing down on his back. "I'm getting ahead of myself. Lupin, the first competent teacher. Pushing me to do better, teaching me to embrace who I was, what I was. Speaking up for me in front of Filius and Minerva. Getting them to push me. He did too much for me. Then Sirius came for Pettigrew of course. My first taste of a time turner."

He moved his head to the side, just far enough for a golden chain to be visible. "They say that it can be addictive, like Liquid Luck or Dreamless Sleep. We never bothered to test it, never bothered to see what happened. It was probably for the best. From what I heard, it killed half a dozen Death Eaters in the end. Driven crazy until they committed suicide."

"Was it suicide, Harry?"

Green eyes hardened, "Of a kind. They took the dark mark."

Dumbledore let out a sigh before waving a hand at the man sat at his desk.

"I still don't know why you agreed to let them host the Tri-Wizard Tournament here, but you did. That was the fourth year. The first time you ever offered me private lessons. I needed them, of course, and took them. Moody trying to imperius me." Harry let out a snort, "Moody not being Moody for that matter. He never really covered after that year. Just got more and more paranoid. Ambushed in the end, though he took nearly twenty of them with him. One of the best non-dark wizards ever I think."

Harry sighed, "I suppose that neither of us, nor Tom, really qualifies for that regard. At least not if your lessons were anything to go by. What did you say again?" His eyes closed, "Magic is determined by intent, not by ministry guidelines. Magic is determined by reason, not by law. Magic is decided by the ends, not the means." A tone of sarcasm crept in, "The Greater Good."

He waved a dismissive hand in the air, it wasn't a topic he dwelt on much. "Voldemort's return, of course. The loss of my scar in the ritual. Mark of the enemy, forcefully taken. All that bullshit. Fudge's stupidity, his refusal to believe that there was any chance that Voldemort had returned. Or that Malfoy had never returned from the dark. Or that Azkaban was no longer secure. Or…" his voice trailed off, there being too many faults to list in the incompetent's rule.

"Sometimes I wonder how you never gave up."

"The answer to that one is simple Harry."

"Do I want to know?"

"I had you. And so long as you were alive, so where the plans I built to finish Riddle off." A glimmer of pride filled the portrait's eyes. "Harry, the weapon to kill the Dark Lord that I helped create."

"Your new apprentice, your new prodigy." A bitter tone crept back in, "I didn't see it back then. What you were planning."

"I would have been more surprised if you had seen it."

Another moment of silence, as the sun moved further down in the sky outside the window. Harry flicked his wand at the fireplace in the corner, letting the blue flames light the room.

"More training, more tutors, more teachers. I must have been blind, looking back." He breathed in, "I didn't really realise what you were doing until that Umbridge disaster. The Department of Mysteries. They still haven't forgiven me. I have a letter from the Unspeakables on my desk at the Manor, and I doubt that it's a birthday card."

"I'm glad I didn't take my friends. I'm glad I just went. They weren't ready, even if I had been trying to remedy that. Thirteen Death Eaters trying to kill me. Then Tom himself. I understand that the fountain still hasn't been repaired. And, of course, that's when the rumours really started." He absent mindedly stared at his wand, twirling it between his fingers, "How did a teenager hold off so many Death Eaters? How did he duel the Dark Lord? Why did the Dark Lord run away from a teenager?"

He shrugged. "It was mildly irritating, but no worse than Slughorn. I wouldn't have minded, but he was just so obvious. Building connections, building alliances, manipulating everyone. Bribery and corruption."

"He was supposed to teach you the intricacies of politics."

"He taught me that politics was bullshit designed to waste time, money and talent."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow meaningfully. "So he did teach you then?"

"Only who to kill."

The bearded portrait opened his mouth, before closing it firmly and watching the much younger man.

"How much more do I need to tell you?"

"Everything Harry. Just tell me everything."

"Fine. Private lessons. From you. On Riddle."

"That sounds like something I would have done."

"How much do you remember?"

"I remember this at least. How could I not? I wanted to make sure that there would be someone who knew what he'd done."

"The horcruxes?"

"The horcruxes."

"You know that they weren't even the start of it right?"

"I believe, _Lord _Potter, that you are getting ahead of yourself again."

"The Horcruxes then." Harry's fingers absent-mindedly rubbed a mark on his chest that still ached. "We went for the ring. Together. You insisted I lacked the skill to help in the shack itself and nearly died because of it."

"I remember the curse on the ring."

"Do you remember Severus?"

"He told me I had a year to live."

"And that you did." Harry sighed. "He planned it of course. Your death. The curse wasn't irreversible, I found the countercurse a few months ago. An interesting book, you would have liked it. _The Mysteries of the Darker Arts and their Counters_." His voice tailed off. "I suppose it might have been too late for you. Recent research, nothing old enough to have been there at the time so to say."

"His poisoning you was probably the last thing he ever did as a spy for Voldemort. After that, I wouldn't say he was that much of a spy. He was responsible for a lot of the Order's early losses."

"He turned then?"

"You were dead when we found out. Long dead. But, yes. Your twelve months to live bullshit was him poisoning you. They wanted the Wand."

"Everyone wanted the wand."

"It's still where it belongs, of course. The safest place I could find"

"Is my grave really the safes-"

"Your grave?" Harry stared at the portrait with incredulity.

* * *

She looked up as an enforcer burst into her room, flushed face and out of breath. "Harry Potter is at Hogwarts."

Glancing over the page of the folder she was on, she carefully placed her bookmark and closed it, pushing it to one side. The colonies would have to wait.

Raising an eyebrow, she stared straight back at him, meeting his eyes.

"What are you waiting for?"

A brief nod of acknowledgement and he was gone. Sweeping down the corridor after him towards the situation room, she accepted the folder from her assistant without even blinking. He had served a long time, he no longer needed to be told that he was doing a good job. Weatherby knew

He had known when he was under Fudge. He had known when he was under Scrigmeour. He had known when he was under Thicknesse. Reliable. The best Undersecretaries were those that were reliable.

Not that she needed this folder.

Harry Potter had been the first case she had ever presided over as Minister. She had spent a lot of time making sure that no one would ever forget his crimes.

Now it seemed that _he_ needed to be reminded. Her smile turned feral.

* * *

Harry appeared to struggle for words for a second, before finally managing to voice his thoughts, "Don't be ridiculous, it's in a warded box with a parseltongue password in the bottom of a vault in the most closely defended place in Britain and potentially Europe."

Shaking his head in bewilderment he continued, "Why on Earth would it be in your grave?"

"So that no one could claim it. That was the plan!"

"I killed you Albus. I struck you down. That was the plan."

Dumbledore's eyes grew foggy, "I… I don't know."

"You wouldn't." Harry smiled sadly. "That was the plan."

"Evidently. That's why you're here. To bring me up to speed."

"I won't ask what you're getting into."

"There's a really nice witch in one of the portraits downs-"

"I said I didn't want to know." A crooked smile crossed Harry's face, "Besides, what would Minerva think?" He casually indicated the empty portrait next to Albus'

Dumbledore had the good graces to wince, the slightest hint of pink colouring his cheeks. Harry closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts, "No, you were poisoned. We made the most out of it as we could. A year together to finish training, to build a plan, to finish every last prerequisite of the mission."

"The mission?"

"Destory the horcruxes, then kill Voldemort. That simple." Harry laughed a bitter laugh, "Not that it worked out that way."

"You died Albus. That was our plan. I would kill you so that Voldemort didn't defeat you with his curse on the ring, then take the Wand and hide it. Then hunt the horcruxes whilst the others helped protect the school from the Death Eaters who would inevitably sweep in when the ministry fell."

"_When _the ministry fell?"

"We were not entirely foolish."

"Shacklebolt?"

"Never had the time to be elected, let alone effective. Killed in one of the first skirmishes. You can thank Severus for that one."

"Scrigmeour?"

"Compromised at the least. A Death Eater at worst. I never had the opportunity to find out, he was executed before I got to him."

"Thicknesse?"

"A puppet, wielded by puppets, manipulated by a master."

"Amelia?"

"Amelia?" An incredulous tone came into his voice, "You call Madame Bones by her first name?"

The pink tones in Dumebledore's cheeks returned.

Harry shook his head in amused bewilderment. "She's fine. Faked her death and went into hiding. Susan is doing well too. Head Auror. One of the ones that helped bring me in at the end, which helped a lot I think."

"Pass on my congratulations."

"I begin to think that you don't want me to last the week." There was a bark of laughter. "Hermione _and_ Susan? This is starting to be the who's who of the women that want to kill me."

Albus fell silent again. The question when it came, was almost out of the blue. "How did I die?"

"Killing curse. I hated you enough for it by that point. Your incessant whining about Minerva and Amelia not wanting to have a sordid threesom-"

"Harry." A stern tone again.

Harry smirked.

"Harry!"

"It was the killing curse!" He sighed. "I hated the necessity. Ron and Hermione knew it all, stuck by me. The others knew enough to know that I wasn't completely gone." His fingers went white as they gripped his wand. "Not then at least."

"Two years we spent looking for those bloody horcruxes after you died. Two years. The casualties mounted up everywhere. Molly died, Arthur died. Anyone that had squibs or muggles for parents ran or died. Nothing we could have done."

"How many?"

"Thousands, literally thousands. There was a radio station that would read obituaries of the fallen. They couldn't keep up at times."

"It wasn't your fault Harry."

"I brought them here." The shout echoed off the walls, for the first time in a long time. "We spoke, you must remember."

"You said you were going to end it. That all the Horcruxes were gone apart from Nagini."

"That's what we thought." Tortured eyes turned to meet Dumbledore's "We missed some. About four hundred of them."

A gasp escaped from Dumbledore's portrait before the obvious came to mind. "The dark marks."

Harry nodded curtly, "The initiation ceremony. Prepare an innocent, kill an innocent. All in front of a dark lord with phenomenal abilities over the dark arts."

"The perfect ritual for creating a horcrux."

"Which in turn was the perfect way to give them a method of communication that was infallible for him and uncontrollable by anyone else."

Dumbledore's eyes closed, sad realisations dawning on his face. "So that's why you never came back."

"It was needed. Hogwart's couldn't be allowed to reveal you again."

"They couldn't have me."

"They couldn't have you." Harry nodded, staring at the portrait. "Nothing personal, but I didn't know how many memories you'd given yourself before your death and I didn't have time to check. There were too many things that needed to be kept secret"

"I understand the necessity."

"Good." Harry took a deep breath, "There was nothing for it after we worked it out. Every death eater everywhere had to be killed and their dark mark destroyed."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "You mea-"

"I burnt them alive." Harry's voice was even, not betraying any emotion. "I couldn't use the Killing Curse. Not even when it was Ron."

"Why Ron?"

"He turned. Thought it was hopeless. Switched to the winning team. After his lifelong love of the Chuddly Cannons I thought he'd be used to the hopelessness but…" Harry tailed off. "He was our coordinator. He planned out the entire Order strategem for six months whilst marked. I only noticed by accident." His eyes hardened. "I killed him there and then. No mercy. No survivors. No hesitation."

"And Miss Granger?"

"Was essentially Mrs Weasley by this point. She told me to never return to her house again and cast me out. The wards nearly killed m-."

Somewhat defensively, Dumbledore interjected before a rant could start. "You burnt her husband in front of her."

Harry's eyes closed, not wanting the pain in them to be visible. "I killed her husband in everything but paperwork in front of her. I left her with a two year old, whilst she was eight months pregnant with a second baby conceived with the death eater scum who had betrayed us all."

The harsh tones seemed strange coming from the scarred man, vitriol and hate rolling off of him.

"And if that wasn't enough, I broke his mind first. Took everything he knew. Which wasn't much, but enough to point me towards more of them."

"Har-"

"Don't you even think about preaching to me on this one Albus. It was necessary." His eyes closed, "Necessary but unforgiveable. My soul was my own, and I wasn't going to let the Killing Curse take that from me."

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses carefully, "How many in the end?"

"Four hundred and thirty seven, if you go by the trials. As I said, I have the largest wand collection in Britain outside of Ollivander."

"At least that defence worked then."

Harry paused.

"After the war. They dragged me in front of a special war tribunal. To ascertain my use of 'reasonable force' during battle." You could hear the quotation marks dropping into place, before he resignedly continued, "And, of course, after they found out that Fiendfyre was involved, there was enough cause to convict me and try me as a Dark Wizard."

"It isn't a da-."

"Four hundred and thirty seventy people being burnt alive probably classifies me as dark Albus."

"The defence saved you from death. That's something."

Harry grimaced. "I'm a registered dark wizard. For life. No parole. No good behaviour. No educating children, no pupils or apprentices, not allowed to mentor. I would move abroad, but they either don't want a dark wizard, or don't want the murderer of Albus Dumbledore and Tom Marvolo Riddle. I'm not even supposed to be here"

"It was necess-"

"They knew. I told them everything. But they had Umbridge."

"She survived?"

"She's a politician. Do they ever not? They're like cockroaches. I read that Fudge was still around the other day. Apparently he ran to America after he 'resigned' and only got back recently."

"Did he ask you for advice?"

Harry smirked before continuing, "Umbridge was the prosecutor in my case. Kept on pushing for the death penalty. She wanted me gone. Still does if Remus and Tonks are anything to go by. Every year they've called by for fourteen years."

"I take it she wasn't successful"

Harry eyed the portrait with suppressed amusement, "They reduced it to paying for all war damage and 10 years of house arrest."

"I suppose four hundred and thirty seven counts of murder and dar-"

"Closer to five or six thousand uses of the dark arts. I didn't really read the Prophet, but someone was kind enough to go through and add it up in their article."

"Either way. It would be unreasonable to expect anyone to serve that many life sentences."

"Especially when the accused destroyed the prison block in the first place, along with killing most of the prior inmates and half of the prison guard. If nothing else, the Dementors would probably have refused to go anywhere near me." A small smile crept onto his face. "Rather like your gargoyle, they have problems facing their own mortality at times."

There was an easing of tension, a small smile and a private joke shared between two equals, before Dumbledore focused once more on the past.

"Did you manage to get over to Nuremgard?"

"He was killed by Voldemort. I'm sorry."

Pain flashed across Dumbledore's eyes for a second. "Gellert was a good man."

"Certainly useful. He was the one who taught me Fiendfyre. It's why he was killed."

"I'm surprised he knew how to use it. He didn't really use anything that dealy"

"After the first newspapers came out after his defeat, he was crushed. The greatest light wizard since Merlin, heralded as a dark terror because he lost and no one knew better." Harry eyed up the portrait, "You never really explained that one."

"He was a better man than me."

"So were many people."

"How many of those could claim to be a tenth the wizard he was?"

Harry made a small noise of acknowledgement, "He gave up on maintaining his reputation. Embraced some of the dark arts, at least in theory. He never had a wand, of course, although his knowledge proved useful. He was like Hermione in some ways. Excellent at researching. If he were a few years younger and batting the other way they'd have made a good couple."

"Did he know who killed Arianna?"

Harry paused. "No."

"Har-"

"Do you really want to know Albus?"

"The Mirror of Erised couldn't tell me."

"The Mirror showed you what you wanted to see. As it showed all of us."

"Have you seen it recently?"

"I've been considering giving it to my daughter. She'd take less time to get ready every year come September."

"You have a daughter?"

"She goes by the name of Molly. Molly Weasley. When my status as a dark wizard came to light, she was urged to change it."

"I thought she was one of Fred's."

"Most of the time she is. I get her for three days every year and then however more she wants. The Court accepted that I wanted to get to know her." He glanced out of the window. "Umbridge was apoplectic. She's been trying to ar-"

A noise outside the window caught his attention, and he quickly wheeled, staring into the twilight gloom. He ran his hand over his wand, idly flicking a few sparks from it as he looked across the ground. "Apologies Albus. It seems that we are about to be interrupted."

Albus grimaced, "Indeed we are my boy, indeed we are."

Their eyes met, before the older man nodded once.

"Until another time Lord Potter. Do not think that I will tolerate another fifteen years without company."

Standing at the top of the stairs, carefully restoring the wards that protected the office in his absence, Harry turned one last time, "Use the Chocolate Frog Cards again. You never hesitated to when you were still alive."

Dumbledore's face fell into a perfect picture of shock. Giving him a wave, Harry Potter stepped out of the office, grabbing only one thing from the shelf by the door as the heavy oak wood swung closed.

He could of course surrender his wand and go to Azkaban. But as a great man had once said, there were better things to spend your time doing than breaking out of jail.

He almost fancied visiting some old friends.

His hand tightened around his wand again and a grin surfaced on his face.

Maybe there was a decent movie they could watch together.

* * *

"Civilian evacuation is complete. We are waiting on your command Minister."

There was silence in the command centre, broken only by the slight buzz emanating from the complex runic systems etched over the mirrored surface that currently showed Hogwarts.

Umbridge scanned the image, the wheels turning. The prodigious Harry Potter. The legendary Harry Potter. The _infamous_ Harry Potter. Her eyes tightened, her fingers tapping against the table edge. He was out of his manor at last. Away from the pesky wards. Away from the traps and laws that let him protect his property.

It was their chance.

The wheels stopped.

"Bring him in."

"Dead or alive?"

Her eyes met the field commander's eyes. "I have always found that Mr. Potter does not respond well to questioning."

She stepped back, sinking into a pink plush armchair that Weatherby had thoughtfully conjured, and took a cup of tea from him. White, with two sugars.

Taking a sip, her lips pursed.

"Would you believe, Field Commander Prewett, that I have no more questions to ask of Mr Potter?"


	4. The Auror, The Inquisitor and The Elf

He hit the stairs running. Tucking the item he had saved from dusty forgetfulness away inside his robes, the pace of striding was picked as he headed towards the Entrance Hall. He had forgotten the Map and was flying blind. Every door was a potential ambush, every corridor a battlefield. Even Hogwart's calmly informing him of new people crossing the ward boundaries – now that he had thought to ask – was not that useful.

Harry mentally put updating the wards on the "to do" list. Alongside not breaking out of Azkaban and avoiding anyone that might kill him. Both of which, he reminded himself as he went down the third staircase of six, were part of the reason why he hadn't publicly left his manor in fifteen years.

"You are surrounded. Surrender your wand and stand down. The floo network has been closed and anti-app-"

Zoning out the announcements from what Harry presumed were circling wizards above the castle, he tempered his paces, slowing his breakneck speed long enough to glance inside the upper balconies of the Great Hall as he passed them.

Abandoned.

He flicked a second concerned look inwards at the Great Hall as he stepped into the transfiguration corridor.

What the hell was the ministry doing?

* * *

The Head Auror sighed. She wasn't in the mood for this. She had brought him in once, and now she was expected to bring him in again? Susan Bones had not signed up to tackle the most dangerous wizard of their era multiple times. Once was bad enough, in battle _and_ in bed. He hadn't come quietly either time.

Looking at the schematics of the grounds, she wondered if anyone was going to point out the obvious to the American Hit Wizard who had taken charge of the operation, or if they were all just going to stand by and let him fail.

Glancing across at the enforcer's, she recognised the ghost of a smile on several faces.

"…and then we'll dive in through the windows and gain control of all the floors simultaneously, allowing us to conduct a thorough search without any risk of the convict escaping. Are there any questions?"

Susan waited.

And waited some more.

Yep, they were going to let the Hit Wizards fail.

Standing to one side as the small army trouped out, one of the enforcers had a coughing fit that wasn't quite enough to cover the quiet laughter of anyone that had read _Hogwarts: A History_. Seeing that no one was going to take control, Susan stepped up to the map table, and then up to a small box that she needed to conjure every time they had a staff meeting.

It was a running joke in the department that it was her most practiced spell, though all of them hesitated to suggest such to the fiery woman's face.

Glancing around the room, she was about to continue with organising the limited Enforcers and frankly ridiculous number of Aurors – including, for some reason, most of the desk wizards and at least one secretary that she recognised – when the floo turned green and the temperature of the tent began to imperceptibly drop.

"Thank you_ Auror_ Bones. I will take it from here."

Ice dripped across the air in the tent as the two glared at each other. Susan still had to look up to meet the Field Commander's eyes, despite her box. Grudgingly, she inclined her head. Even the head of a department could be outranked in this tent.

"Field Commander Prewett."

The Field Commander's eyes flicked around the tent, meeting each and every gaze.

"I have a plan."

There was a melodramatic pause. Susan frowned. Showy bastard.

"Surround the castle. Shoot anything that leaves."

* * *

It was the clink of a glass that disturbed him next, as he continued his fast paced walk down the transfiguration corridor. Harry's eyelid flickered. Information was important. He was falling short and getting increasingly annoyed. Another announcement reminded him of a second reason: vengeance. There weren't many people who knew he had arrived at Hogwart's.

His wand rose and a blast took the door off of its hinges, leaving a somewhat more frazzled Dennis flying through the air towards the opposite wall.

"Dennis. What a surprise."

"Ar- are you here to kill me?"

"I wasn't. Then I found you trying to get drunk." There was an ominous silence, which Dennis used to piss himself. Harry's lip curled in disgust, "I suppose you're going to tell me that you can be useful. Beg for your life the usual."

"I know their tactics! The way they think! I know what they want from you! I can negotiate for you! We don't need to take this out of proportion!"

"Are you _sure_ you're a Gryffindor?"

Dennis lunged forwards, going from his knees to flat on his front, grasping at Harry's robes, even as a hand casually lifted him up and pushed him backwards against a wall.

"I don't remember a Gryffindor as weasel-" Harry paused for a second, a flash of red hair flying through his memory. "I don't remember _many_ Gryffindors as weasely as you. And you're supposed to be the Head of House?" He closed his fist, letting Dennis slump to the floor, his breathing short and fast, his eyes flicking from door to window.

"Did you tell the Ministry I was here?"

"I had to! You were speaking to Dumbledore."

"What does that mean?"

"Access to classified information is restricted, they'd kill me for letting you away after speaking to an unexamined portrait, let alone giving you access to the entire office."

Harry turned his head to one side and eyed Dennis curiously, "What are they hiding?"

Dennis' face flickered, "I can't tell you."

"And if I told you that I'd need to know?"

Watching the eyes carefully, Harry saw them flick to the desk quickly, before protestations started again. Keeping his wand firmly on the pathetic waste of space, he used his other hand to sort through the papers on the desk. Accounts, syllabi. The normal runnings of a school. And a letter from the minister.

Flicking his eyes back to the cowering Dennis, he lifted it with two fingers and read it quickly.

Dennis whimpered.

"And what exactly is Umbridge telling you to prepare for?"

The panicked silence was deafening.

With a growl, Harry strode over to the cowering wizard and grabbed him up by the scruff of his robes and dragged him across the room to the window overlooking the lake. With a slight grunt of effort, he shoved the wizard through the window. Glass showered onto the ground below. It took a while for the final tinkle of glass on stone to fade away.

Dennis' eyes closed, whispering desperately. Last prayers, final rites, last words. Harry didn't care.

"Come on Dennis." Harry leaned in closer, hissing into the wizard's ear. "Give me a reason."

* * *

Fuck that wizard and fuck his sudden random desire to visit Hogwarts. And fuck the enforcers. Susan was in a bad mood. Her team captains had long since departed for their positions, leaving her to stand, alone, in the very centre of their line, at the point closest to the Forbidden Forest.

It was, as she had discovered in her seventh year, Forbidden for a reason. Acromantulas were the least of their problems. It was the only known resting place of ghouls and wights in Europe, and one of the few places you could find Dementors after the Azkaban Incident. The trees almost seemed to be edging closer to her, the wind lashing the branches forwards, leaning them towards her.

She scowled and tossed a blasting curse into the branches. It didn't seem to make much difference.

She wasn't hired for this bullshit. She was head of her department, not some field agent with a chip on her shoulder to prove. She'd already got past that phase of her life and moved onto the exciting life of crushing the egos of the new graduates.

There was no reason for her to be on this operation. Interdepartmental politics was one thing. Pulling every available field agent _and_ all of the desk agents from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for a single wizard – no matter who it was – was going to cause issues.

She just _knew_ she was going to get stuck with the paperwork.

Glancing at her watch, she noted that it was time to move around a little. Keep morale up. Pretend this was a good idea. Pretend that any of these desk agents who hadn't held a wand to do anything except cooking in the last ten years would stand a chance. She sighed.

She had read Dolores' reports. She knew what the government thought he was up to. She shuddered. It was, in hindsight, a bad mistake to leave him alone with the entire family libraries of the Potters, Malfoys, Blacks _and_ whatever else had been left to him before the papers set their hearts on destroying him.

The paperwork for the inheritances after the first Voldemort conflict had been huge. She had seen the three rooms dedicated to the Potter bequests. Stupid Boy-Who-Lived bullshit. Her lips tightened, and her knuckles turned white as she clenched her wand. He wouldn't have that title much longer if he kept her waiting out in the freezing cold.

Stepping to the left, she had just begun to take her first step towards the next Auror position when her badge started to vibrate.

She glanced at it in surprise before checking the broadcasted message that had appeared in embossed letters.

The trees nearby learnt a few new words.

* * *

Harry gave him a moment. Then he dropped him.

The screams pierced the air.

Sighing, Harry waved his hand at the man, levitating him into the air and back to the level of the window, where his mouth flapped open and closed, the final echoes of a very loud scream echoing off of the walls around them.

"You have successfully attracted the attention of whatever officials they sent here to detain me. Congratulations. You have reduced the time I have with you from five minutes to one minute."

He waved a hand casually, summoning a small hourglass, sand slowly trickling down.

"What's your life worth Dennis?"

"I- I can't."

"Then there's no reason for me to have this conversation." Harry started to turn, but a desperate yelp pulled him back to the window once more.

"Make this good."

"She's up to something."

"She's Umbridge."

"Something big! Huge. Beyond compr-"

"She's the Minister for Magic."

Harry cast a critical eye at the hourglass and enlarged it, allowing every last grain to be seen as they dropped one by one.

"Stop playing for time." A touch of steel grew into his tone. "You really don't have time to waste."

"My floo. My floo works. It always works. Three doors down the corridor."

Harry smirked, "I already knew. What coward wouldn't leave a permanent escape route open?"

Dennis gulped visibly and Harry let his magic slowly slip away from him, watching as the man slowly started to feel the pull of gravity.

Another whimper escaped before the mouth overruled the mind, "She's doing something with werewolves."

Harry froze, then yanked Dennis back up to eye level. "Werewolves?"

Dennis' sweat had soaked through to his robes now, the small man's bubbly personality suppressed by sheer terror.

"What about the werewolves?" Harry waved his wand, pulling the short man closer to the window.

"I just know that they're at Azkaban. That's all." Dennis' eyes were desperate. "I swear."

"Azkaban? Why Azkaban"

"It's the only place that she could use for when th-"

Dennis eyes suddenly rolled backwards in his head, and a harsh voice spat of his mouth, "This operative has been deemed a security risk and will be terminated."

His eyes slowly focused on Harry again, a look of panic crossing his face. A scream started to tear itself from his throat, his hand clenching at his left arm. The body started jerking back and forth, writhing in unseen pain, red froth bubbling from his lips and blood gushing from his nose, bones turning soft and dissolving even as he watched.

"Fuck!" Harry kicked at the desk in frustration, then winced as he banged his toe, before waving his hand at the formless blob outside the window. He wasn't going to waste the effort of trying to save a man who was so far gone that he didn't even resemble a corpse.

There was a pause then a squelch. Glaring angrily towards the Forbidden Forest, he wondered just what he had done to deserve this. The whiskey bottle that Dennis had left was tempting. Very tempting.

A sound caught his attention, the whisper of feet across the ground, the soft tread of trained men. Pulling his anger around him like a cloak he turned to look at the doorway and raised his wand.

It seemed that they weren't going to let him have the whiskey.

* * *

Seeing the Head of the Auror Department running was normally a cause for celebration. Susan was a girl with _bounce_, and gym slots during Susan's favourite exercise times were something that the newer Aurors had been known to lose in games of poker to the older - less foolish - Aurors.

There was no betting now.

Nodding her acknowledgement to one of the two teams she had called to accompany her as they went into the castle in support of the suicidal Hit Wizards, she upped the pace. Things were going to go wrong. Fucking Americans.

They weren't even halfway towards the Entrance Hall when an explosion shattered the windows across their side of the castle. Diving to the ground, Susan's mind went blank. The windows of Hogwarts were charmed to be unbreakable. It was why the Hit Wizards first plan had failed and why this monumental cock up had happened in the first place.

Storing it at the back of her mind, she pulled herself to her feet, and started her run once again. A second explosion. There was a moment, then spellfire began crossing floors, flicking between second and third level transfiguration classrooms. A third. A few bodies flew past windows or out of windows, and spellfire could be seen flashing through the classrooms and corridors, the occasional blast being deflected out into the sky. She ignored it, letting green, red and silver lights flicker across the darkening grounds. If they were engaged in a pitched battle with Potter, there wasn't much she could do except get someone else to talk to the kids they left behind.

The spellfire rushed closer to the Entrance Hall, the random bursts from windows stepping window by window towards the doors. She frowned. She nodded to the paling faces of the elite aurors, who spread out around the door, the broomstick riders dropping down to light up the surroundings with harsh white lights. A single man rushed to the doors and started weaving spells, trying to break through whatever enchantments had been used to secure it.

A steady stream of incantations spoken in half a dozen panicked voices drifted into hearing as the first impact from within rocked the door. There was no time to get inside, no time to help. He was here.

She winced. That was most of the MLE's Hit Wizards gone in just an evening.

A second loud thud rocked the door. It was easy to tell who was winning. A hand landed on her shoulder and she glanced over to see Prewett stood there. His grim face reflected hers, a rare moment of agreement between departments.

His Enforcers spread out, intermingling with the Aurors.

The doors blew open, tossing the remaining hit wizards onto the ground.

Susan glanced at Prewett, who flicked his head towards the door, letting her take control for once.

"This is the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You are required to surrender your wand and emerge from the building with your hands above your head for questioning."

Prewett coughed, smothering a laugh. She rolled her eyes. It was worth a try.

From the gloom, a figure emerged, lit from behind by the flickering torches of Hogwart's. Shields thickened into visible silver domes around the Auror lines.

A second and third head emerged from the smoke, followed by enthusiastic barking as the Hogwart's Cerberus burst out into the grounds, jumping around in excitement.

Turning to Prewett, she said the first thing that came to her mind, "Crap."

* * *

"Molly?" Harry stepped out of the floo, wand still raised at the ready. "Molly, where are you?"

He edged closer to the door, pushing it open with his offhand, his shoes silent on the ground as he padded towards the staircase. A trickle of dread ran down his shoulders. Could they have cracked the wards when he was at Hogwart's?

The staircase was an ancient monstrosity. Black wood steps that he had tried to brighten with deep golden banisters. Tall and imposing. Everything that the Malfoy's had tried so hard to be. His mind acknowledged it and dismissed it. "Molly?"

He nudged the first door open, casting his eyes over one of his libraries. There was no reason for her to be in here, no reason for anyone to be in here. Shaking his head, he crossed to the second door. Her door. Flexing his shoulders, he shoved the door open hard, wand tip lighting with a curse.

"Dad!"

"Molly?"

"Why the hell are you in my room? It's still dark."

"Molly… it's six o'clock." Seeing her confused look he continued, "In the evening."

"Oh." She looked around, patting a few surfaces before finding her wand. "I overslept then?"

"Just a bit."

"Godda-" Harry raised an eyebrow and Molly's mouth snapped shut before she uttered her last words.

"You need to get up." Harry crossed to the window. "We need to get you out of the manor and somewhere safe."

"What about Uncle Charlie?"

Harry's back stiffened. "No, not Charlie. Or Bill." He cast his mind about desperately. "Do you know any of the Bones?"

Molly shook her head. Harry swore, and rapped her sharply on the head when she raised her eyebrow at him, looking for the world like a thinner version of her grandmother. Her mouth twisted, trying to hide a smile. He waved a hand in the air, "I'm allowed! It's my house."

"Okay Dad. Whatever you say Dad."

A dull thud came from outside the manor, ripples flying through the air outside the manor.

Leaning onto the windowsill, Harry cast his mind back. Who was left? His conversation with Dumbledore came to mind. "The Grangers. Do you know the Grangers?"

"You mean, Lily? I'm in her transfiguration class."

Waving his wand around the room, Harry stuffed Molly's belongings into a trunk and ushered her out towards the library.

"You can get changed when you get there. It'll have to do."

"Dad?"

"When you see her, tell her…" Harry paused, grabbing a handful of floo powder and throwing it into the fireplace. He lent forwards and whispered a message into Molly's ear.

"Fine, yeah, I can tell her, whatever that means. Now where the hell am I going?"

Harry smirked, and enunciated clearly, "The Granger Insitute Library."

"What?"

Three seconds later, Molly was flying through the fire, wondering just _what_ had got into her father today.

* * *

Three heads, barking, furiously wagging tail. Susan wanted to find a tree and bang her head against it. Hitwizards used to be good at their job. She remembered when it was a mark of respect to wear the badge, when a hitwizard could walk into a bar and get drunk on the power of his smile alone.

Stepping past the line of shield, she strode towards the over friendly Cerberus trying not to stand on any important parts of the hitwizards scattered around the killzone.

"Down Fluffy!" Susan's voice cracked through the air, and the Cerberus' hind end hit the ground before any of its three brains had quite finished processing, a faint whine . With a twirl of her wand, she summoned a radio, and let the sounds of the Weird Sisters ring towards the dog.

Petting it behind the ears mindlessly, dodging the occasional overenthusiastic tailwag, before turning to her Aurors, "Find him."

Prewett flicked his wand, dismissing his men, "Keep us updated. We're going to support the assault on Potter Manor."

Susan's hand stopped scratching the spot behind the rightmost head's ear that Fluffy particularly loved. "You're assaulting Potter Manor?"

The black robe twirled and walked away. An answer was not really necessary.

* * *

"Mum?"

"Mm?"

"There's a girl asking for you."

"Mm."

"Do you want me to tell her to go away?"

"Mm?"

"Is that yes?"

"Mm mhm."

"Mum!"

There was a pause in the scratching of the quill, and the quiet turn of a page.

"Seriously. Fine, whatever. I'll just tell her to come on up then."

"Mm."

Footsteps died away.

She licked a finger and turned another page, searching for the bit she was looking for. Hearing someone come up the stairs, a red flag raised itself at the back of her mind. Wasn't there something she was supposed to d-

She promptly ignored it. One of her kids would deal with it.

A knock at her study door.

"Mm?"

The door creaked open. She glanced up, turning another page, before going back to her book.

A second later, something clicked. She froze, then slowly lifted her head to look once more at the figure patiently waiting in the door.

Glancing to the book and back in surprise, she lifted her cup of tea suspiciously and sniffed at it. She had been sleeping properly. She shouldn't be hallucinating and she was relatively sure that the twins hadn't got to her _or_ the tea.

Pushing the book to one side, she finally found her voice.

"Ginny?"

* * *

Stepping into the main library, Harry sank into his chair, glancing at where Lupin had been sat not even twenty four hours ago. Rubbing his head tiredly, he wondered just where his plan to retire had gone wrong.

Get thrown into house arrest, get a few masteries, avoid politics and drama or having to do, well, pretty much anything really. He had done enough. He had done too much, far too much. He really needed a whiskey. He lifted his hand to summon a bottle when another dull thud on the wards outside reminded him of why he couldn't.

Sighing, he waved a hand towards the fireplace, lighting it. It would take them time to get through the outer layer of wards. He had time. A few seconds later, dinner arrived. The house elves had always had a knack for guessing at his mood.

Absently mindedly pushing his food around his plate, a thought came to him. "Dobby?"

With a crack, the house elf appeared next to him. "Yes, Mister Dark Lord Harry Potter sir?"

Harry winced. It was as if every title he got added to, rather than replaced, the accolades that Dobby used. He almost missed the days when he was just Mister Harry Potter Sir. Things were simpler then.

"Did you move the letters I left in here?"

"Yes Mister Dark Lord Harry Potter Sir. Dobby is a good elf! Mister Harry Potter said Dark Lord Potter was not to be disturbeds, so Dobby is putting the letters with all the rest."

"The rest?"

Dobby smiled. "Yes Mister Dark Lord Harry Potter Sir."

Harry frowned, a tired hand rubbing at his brow. "Could you get them for me?"

"All of thems?"

"Please."

There was a sharp crack, and a short pause. Harry ate another mouthful. Another booming noise came from outside. He would have to raise the secondary defences soon. And the tertiary. And quaternary. His mouth twitched. He _had_ been here for fifteen years, with not much else to do.

A series of cracks inspired Dobby's return. Along with thousands, upon thousands of letters, sweeping from one corner of the room in a tidal wave of paper. His name, in hundreds of permutations swam before his eyes as he quickly levitated himself, his chair and his dinner into the air above the centre of the library.

"Dobby?"

"All of Master's letters sir!"

Flicking a hand at one that bore the embossed seal of Gringotts, Harry turned it over and checked the date.

"All of my letters from the last fifteen years?"

Dobby's smile was eerily wide. "Yes Dark Lord Potter sir."

Harry's head sank backwards.

"Did Dobby do wrong? Master was rather insistent that he was not to be interrupted Dark Lord Harry Potter sir!"

Casting his mind back, Harry banged his head against the back of his chair a couple of times. Dobby had a point. After the trials, he hadn't wanted to do anything. He had ignored his post, told them to take it away and put it somewhere else. Great.

Flicking his hand towards a letter addressed in handwriting that he didn't immediately recognise, he opened it.

_Lord Potter,_

_We are working to establish a body to research in the fields of Dark Magic for the purposes of defeating such evil as Lord Voldemort without resorting to many of the vile magicks that you have been accused of using in recent British press. Whilst I am sure that your Government will attempt to prevent such research, I have good contacts amongst the Germ-_

Harry folded the letter back into the envelope and summoned a second one.

_Harry,_

_In all our time at Hogwart's, I never had the chance to talk to you properly. I never summoned up the courage to face you directly and tell you this. I am in love with you. I have always been in love with you. I dream of having your children, I dream of tying you to a bed an-_

His eyebrows ascended and he flicked through several other sheets of parchment tucked away inside, much of it the same, trying to work out who it was from. There wasn't, he noticed idly, even paragraphs. Just page after page of block text.

_-ve for each other is real. I know it. I know that even if you have had to lie to yourself and be caught up in that ginger bitch's fantasies, you are still able to be saved. I can save you. Just let me show you. Over and over again._

_Love,_

_Romilda Vane_

He snapped his fingers and let the ash settle onto the ground around him. "How many letters do I have Dobby?"

"Master Potter has fifty seven thousand, six hundred and eighty fo-" Dobby's eyes noticed the ash floating in the air. "Fifty seven thousand, six hundred and eighty three letters."

Somewhat gingerly, Harry ate another mouthful, aware of the slowly increasing tempo of the thuds outside. It was making it hard to think, and he couldn't for the life of him remember why he'd chosen physical wards as the outermost layer. The ministry breaking them was giving him a headache.

As the rumble of spell barrage grew louder and the wards started to glow red in the sky he sighed. Time to go. With sudden decisiveness, he pushed his plate to one side.

"Dobby, give me all the letters from yesterday, and then put the rest back into storage."

Giving him a strange look, Dobby cracked his fingers, causing all but a few of the letters to disappear.

Harry's chair landed on the ground as he gingerly picked himself out of it, a wave of his hand bringing all of the remaining letters within arms reach, his dinner plate disappearing from the arm of the chair he was sat on.

Walking out the library door, Dobby following at his heels, he waved his wand, summoning various things that he would need. "I'm going to be travelling for a short time Dobby. I need a favour."

Dobby's smile grew even wider. Harry winced. He could see the cheekbones bending. "Lord Harry Potter sir, Dobby would be honoured."

Catching a sword and slinging it over his shoulder next to a canvas bag that was slowly filling itself from the kitchen cupboards and his wardrobe, Harry touched a plate next to the front door with two fingers and whispered a short latin phrase before turning back to the house elf.

"Defend my house."

Those that knew the house elf would have shivered in fear at the gleam that sprang into the small being's eyes, the light from within them visible even within the sudden darkness as every window slammed shut, turning to stone.

Mister Dark Lord Harry Potter Sir did not look back.


	5. Bad Men Go To Jail

"Report"

"Wards are almost down sir. We're ready to mobilise. The manor is about three miles southwest of here"

Prewett raised an eyebrow, "Three miles?"

The Enforcer shrugged, his shoulders moving beneath the thick cloak they all wore in the field, "A big house."

"Broomsticks then?"

"Only if you want to trigger the specific wards for broomsticks."

"He has specific wards for broomsticks?"

"He has specific wards for _everything_. I read one of the dissertations he wrote for his Higher Mastery in Defence." The enforcer's eyes glanced at the wardbreakers a few hundred metres away, who were seeming to literally pour magic into what appeared to be a shell six miles across centred over the manor that they knew was somewhere within. "I'm not entirely sure that even they understand it properly; say what you like about him, but he's a genius when it comes to Defence."

Pushing past the man, he fingered his wand carefully as he saw the wards deepen from their bright red into a deep purple. "I don't care whether they understand them. I just care if they can destr-"

With a resounding crack, the dome split, light flaring across it as it was ripped to pieces. In front of them, two of the three wardbreakers collapsed, exhausted, to their knees, trying to catch their breath.

Lifting his wand to his throat, Prewett raised his voice, "All units, report."

The acknowledgement was spoken as one voice, all eight units ready and present. Nearly a hundred men, including himself, the tag-along Werewolf and his nymphomaniac partner. Enough.

He hoped.

"The manor is roughly three miles to the southwest. We will proceed as one." His eyes gazed across the lines, his other hand touching the gun bound to his waist, "We are not here to take risks. When in danger, aim to disable or kill."

He took his wand away and glanced at the werewolf, at Lupin, "I hope that's enough."

"To bring him in?"

Prewett stalked past, the men spreading out into their units of twelve. "To keep them alive long enough to give us a chance."

Lupin shook his head and leaned toward Tonks, "That ward came down pretty easily considering where we're going."

"I know. Thinkin' it's a trap?"

The werewolves eyes, slowly turning yellow in the moonlight from the clear skies above, stared deep into hers for a second. "Knowing it's a trap."

* * *

Unlike her father at a similar age, Molly was well aware of the secretive magic that all books held. The musty smell of parchment, the lure of knowledge, of things that might be forbidden, or at least understood. The attraction of the library, the repository of everything everyone could ever want to know. It was addictive, and she was addicted.

Which is why she knew, perfectly well thank you very much, that the books that Professor Hermione Granger (from the name on the doorplate, at least) were reading were definitely not your typical magical books. They fitted many of the criteria, she noted, with their embossed golden titles and their deep blue covers bound tightly with what appeared to be some magical lock, but magical books, no matter how hard you were willing to try, were not made of paper.

And it was definitely Muggle paper. She had seen that from her position by the door, before she'd abandoned it to step closer and lift one up with her usual bookish daring. She was, after all, in Gryffindor. The thick word "Diary" across the front, lifted up and seeming to glare at her imposingly settled at least what type of book she was reading, but given that the paper was barely yellowing she was struggling rather to decide just whose diary it was.

Prominent muggleborns of the last thirty years were not short in number particularly. The war against… she hesitated, stopping her train of thought. She knew it wasn't quite right, she had always known, and it annoyed her every time, but evil does as evil must… the war against her father, the Dark Lord Harry Potter had been a long one and everyone everywhere had been forced into it.

Frowning a bit she cast her mind around a bit. She remembered that it had been a minor controversy to hand out so many Orders of Merlin at one sitting. Many Purebloods had been outraged at the list of those being given this honour; nearly half hadn't been part of a Wizengamot extended family. It was unheard of. She had checked. Even with all her knowledge however, she couldn't think of a single one who would write a set of diaries that would be of interest to an academic. Stuffy Healers and minor war heroes were unlikely to contribute much to the knowledge of the war.

She pursed her lips, standing in a way that anyone that had known her grandmother would have recognised instantly. Glaring at the offending pile of books, she jumped when a somewhat older voice spoke up behind her.

"They're mine."

Turning white, Molly rapidly placed the book back on the desk. Cursing herself for missing the obvious, she tried to ignore the fact that she had picked up something belonging to _the_ Hermione Granger. Picked up the personal diary of _the_ Hermione Granger. The personal and probably _intimate_ diary of someone _who had known her father_. And then she'd been caught. She could feel her face slowly heating up.

"I started them during my first year at Hogwarts. A new world, a new set of people. Friends for the first time." There was a quiet sigh and quiet footsteps on the carpet. "It was one of the things that I used to structure my letters home. Deciding what I could tell them. Deciding what I _should_ tell them. And then the war of course."

Molly, by this point, was flaming red, her face as vibrant as her hair.

Hermione placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, smiling indulgently at the younger girl's face, "Curiousity is good, don't be embarrassed."

With a second glance at Molly, Hermione reached into her top and produced a wand, which she waved, banishing the books over to the corner of the room into a chest which slammed shut, chains melding out of the decorative woodwork and binding it further. Her voice flattened, "That said, knowledge can be dangerous, and that particular set of knowledge is very dangerous for a lot of people."

There was an awkward silence.

Hermione shifted around her desk, clearing her throat, before sitting back down and moving the stack of notes to one side. "Sorry fo- sorry for leaving you." She said suddenly, it seeming to burst out, "There were just too many memories. You just reminded me of your mother."

"I get that a lot."

"I'm not surprised."

"A lot of people can't look me in the eyes."

"Does Har-"

The look Hermione got was enough to silence her, ending her question before it began.

Molly dropped her gaze, and her shoulders, and stepped back from the desk, "Did you know him? Properly I mean."

She lifted an eyebrow, "I can recommend several books on how well we knew each other, if you'd like."

"And they'll tell me that he's a Dark Lord, out to kill everyone he can, bound only by the ministry's will." Her voice rose, her fists clenching, "Don't pretend that's who he is."

"So he doesn't meet your eyes."

Molly scowled.

"And you _really_ look like your mother when you do that." Hermione almost sounded amused. Tapping her fingers on the desk lightly, she continued "Do you want your own room or do you want to share with one of the girls?"

"What?"

"I'm presuming you're going to be here for quite a while."

Molly stared at her in disbelief for a second.

With a smile, Hermione stood up from the desk, "I know that Harry would look after either of my daughters should they appear on his doorstep complete with their trunk. It's the least I can do. So your own room or sharing?"

"My own." She slightly hesitantly followed the bushy haired witch further into the library, walking up another set of stairs.

Turning her head slightly, Hermione glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, "I don't suppose he said _why_ you're here? I'm surprised you aren't at Charlie's place."

"He didn't even consider it."

"Mhm."

"He gave me a message though."

Stopping in midstep, Hermione turned her head until she could meet Molly's eyes. "Oh?"

Staring the older witch dead in the eye, Molly's face was blank, her tone emotionless, "He said that a second mark was rising."

Molly's trunk fell to the ground with a thud.

Molly's mouth closed shut on her question of_ why_, of _what_. The look of shock, horrified shock, on Hermione's face was enough for her to know.

Enough for her to know that she wasn't going to find out a real answer tonight. Enough to know it might never be explained properly. Enough to know that some things, some things, really were dangerous knowledge.

So Molly waited, waited for the door to be almost shut before asking why in a soft voice.

Hermione's eyes met her, and the door slid shut silently, leaving Molly to wonder if she had heard, or imagined, the answer.

_It means _we_ are to prepare._

* * *

The sky thundered above, lightning flaring across the crowds in an incandescent flurry of sparks. The wind roared, rattling the windowpanes, whipping water from the belting rain into every crevice of the cold stones.

The man shivered, tossing his cloak towards the corner, closer to the fire. "'ere, I'm glad we don't 'ave to go out there again."

"You can say that again." A second older man's coat followed, water dripping off of them to form a puddle on the floor as a wave of a wand lit the fire.

With a grin the first man sank into one of the room's two plushy armchairs, "'ere, I'm glad we don't 'ave to go out there again."

The second man shook his head, before joining in the rueful laughter. Grabbing a kettle from the corner, he filled it with water before sticking it over the fire. Another sheet of lightning shuddered across the clouds. "Be grateful the Germans are doing tonight then Selwyn."

The other man peeled a boot off and tossed it towards the corner after his coats. "Say this though Travers: if we knew we were going to be doing this kind of thing then why we signed up I never knew."

Travers sank into the second armchair with a sigh, basking in the warmth of a fire, letting Selwyn rable on.

"I mean, we did our ten years and all, and now we're back in a bloody prison 'gain."

Raising an eyebrow, Travers stared over at Selwyn for a second, "I'm not sure that a decade of Azkaban would have been taken as a reasonable excuse to not do a few years here. Especially considering that we were on the inside, not the outside."

"I just think it's a bit unfair. You think that t'others come out 'ere as much as we do?" Selwyn lent forwards, "I reckon that e's just a bit mad 'bout that poker stuff a few weeks back."

Travers sighed.

"'e likes the gym right, and 'e lost his slot and all?" Selwyn shuffled closer to the edge of his seat, "I reckon 'e likes 'imself a ginger. I mean she got that slot too all the time don't she?"

Selwyn glanced up to find Travers staring him straight in the eye, "Maybe he just likes tits."

There was contemplative silence for a second as Selwyn imagined the rather impressive cleavage of the ginger in question, before giving a dreamy sigh, "I think you might 'ave somethin' there."

"I bet he don't have it though."

There was a snort of laughter, drowned out by another roar from the wind outside. On the fire, the kettle whistled. Waving his wand towards the sidebar, Travers grabbed a couple of mugs. "Black with no sugar for you right?"

"C'mon y'bugger. Don't piss around with m'tea."

Travers chuckled, before pouring Selwyn's sugar how he liked it: with a little splash of tea. "I'm not even sure this deserves to be called tea. Thank god for mediwitches right?"

Grabbing his cup of tea with both hands, Travers settled back into an armchair, embracing the fire's warmth. Leaning across the arm of the chair, he bent closer to Selwyn across the empty armchair betwe-

Travers felt the words die in his mouth.

Selwyn looked at him, confused, then followed Travers' gaze down to the chair between them.

Travers flicked his eyes over to the fireplace, where he'd left his wand to grab his tea and really hoped that Selwyn didn't do anything stu-

"Eh, Travers. Dint we only 'ave two armchairs in 'ere?"

* * *

_It is commonly known that Ronald Weasley left what was becoming a seemingly hopeless hunt for the Horcruxes. His family released several statements to the press declaring this during the trials immediately after the war which disavowed their knowledge of this period, and Harry stood by them to the end._

_Upon later reflection, it was something we could have perhaps predicted. Dragged down by the vicious, aggressively depressing, Locket we had found only a few days previously, it is not particularly surprising that the one with least to lose was the member of our group that would not truly see the war against Voldemort through._

_As Harry pointed out to me later that night, as a pureblood with a pureblood family for as many generations as they could count, the Weasley's were not high on the Dark Lord Voldemort's priorities. Whilst they consorted with 'blood traitors and mudbloods' – and participated in the vigilante group "The Order of the Phoenix" - the fact remained that for many generations, the vast majority of family members were part of one of the 'noble' families of our fair countries (see family tree opposite). Though the depths to the Dark Lord's depravity had not yet been fully established, we later discovered that many of the planned marriage laws were designed to reintegrate the pureblood Weasley's into 'proper' society, linking their families to the Malfoys and Longbottoms, amongst others (see Appendix H for details). However, this topic is a digression better saved for those historians permitted access to the few Ministry records that were not 'lost' shortly after this dark period of our history ended._

_Instead, allow me to bring you back to that small clearing in the rainy forests of England, where the Horcrux Hunt still remained, alongside a friendship that would now, through necessity grow closer than ever. Readers of this book may remember the Troll at Halloween scandal that rocked Hogwarts, or at least the Basilisk problems suffered during my second year. Neither compared to this, in either of our eyes. With his closest and dearest male friend turning his back on the fight against Voldemort, it was one of Harry's darkest hours. His strength in the face of adversity, always strong, had never seemed stronger than when he picked me up from where I had collapsed that evening and guided me back under the tent's covers._

Hermione lay her quill down gently next to the parchment, glancing at her scroll of notes once more, unsure of what to say. Unsure of where to continue. She shook her head, angry at herself. So much progress had been made, so quickly, and now…she sighed, and waved her wand towards the chest in the corner, bringing the relevant diaries back to her, trying to recall just which one of them it was in.

The door creaked open, a tall man stepping inside, his dark hair swept back, caught in the firelight. "Working as ever."

"Someone has to try."

"You know you'll fail."

"It isn't the success that's important it's-"

"-the attempt that matters. I know. I was there for that conversation too." The man stepped forwards, crossing the distance in a few long strides, reaching out with a hand to Hermione's shoulders, "I'm not sure he still believes that."

Hermione pushed his hands away and leant over her work, head buried in her hands. "His daughter is upstairs."

His eyebrow twitched higher, her quick glance catching it.

"Molly I mean. Molly Potter is upstairs." Her breath caught in her throat, "What am I supposed to do? I couldn't even look at her when she arrived. I left. I had to. Too many, too many things."

The taller man sighed and sat down, "Why was she here? Why not Charlie's? Or even the twins."

"God knows."

"I'll send him a let-"

"And he'll ignore it. Like the rest."

"You did it again?"

"I do it every year. Someone has to remember them."

The man glanced around the room, "I think, Hermione, that you do enough remembering for all of us at times."

"And what Neville?" She lifted her eyes, staring at him in anger, "Should I just let those times be, let them be past, let them lie to everyone, his daughter, my daughters?"

He had no answer. He never had an answer. There was an angry silence for a second before he lent across and glanced at the page she had started, "Where have you got to?"

"The tent."

"After Weasley left?"

"Yeah." She gave a sad smile.

Neville frowned, "You've managed to move forwards a fair bit then. I thought you'd only started looking for the Locket."

"He left within a week after we found it. Once we found that we didn't have a way of destroying it."

"I thought he was there for months."

"The Weasley's thought it sounded better that way."

Neville let out a small noise and quickly scanned through a few pages. "I guess you're going to need a friend tomorrow. Want me to check with Hannah?"

"No." She shook her head, "No. Don't worry. This bit isn't as bad as mos-"

"The day Hermione Granger lost Ronald Weasley?" Neville's eyebrow rose, "The day you lost your closest frien-"

Her voice raised, "I said no. No, _Mr Shortstaff._" Her words practically spat out at him, "I will be fine."

Neville recoiled, stepping back from the desk. His face closed off, the walls that they had all built up falling back into place, "I have classes to prepare for."

She waved him away, not looking up even as the door slammed shut, and opened the diary in front of her and lifted it, intending to lean back in the chair when a small badge fell out, landing on the floor.

Her eyes flicked to it, and a sad smile touched her face at the SPEW emblem blazoned across it.

"No, Mr Longbottom. That was not the day I lost my closest friend." She picked it up and placed it carefully on the desk, "It wasn't that day for a long time. Not for many, many, days after that."

The candle flickered.

* * *

"ACHTUNG!"

Harry Potter growled, spinning under the barrage of spells from one of the Germans, flicking a shield up with his wand, even as his other hand blew open the door in front of him.

"Es gibt eine unbekannter zauberer in Block B!"

This had not gone to plan.

"Alle shutz abfangen!"

Breathing heavily, he stalked through the door, his wand lunging for the guards on this level, who had obviously just stumbled out of the International Auror quarters down the corridor. Both collapsed, their heads banging against the wall behind them knocking them out for the count. His eyes looked at the cell numbers. Nearly there.

"ACHTUNG!"

A spell flew past him, and he leaned forwards to dodge the next one, stepping smoothly around in a half-turn before banishing the nearest guard back down the stairs he had just climbed up and slamming the door shut.

"Es gibt eine unbekannter zauberer in Block B!"

Four hundred and thirty three. Four hundred and thirty four. A patrol of aurors turned the corner ahead of him, their wands at the ready. Before the front two even noticed he was there, his wand had blasted curses towards them, splitting them apart, driving them back.

"Alle Shutz abfangen!"

Four hundred and thirty five. He smiled grimly, stepping to one side to avoid a barrage of spells before turning to face them all.

"ACHTUNG!"

His shield reflected a spell into the wall, and he batted the next one away with his wand, before unleashing flames down the hall, a roaring cyclone of fire driving them back around the corner.

"Es gibt eine unbekannter zauberer in Block B!"

A different kind of fire burst from his wand, thick black flames springing after them, turning the corner, sweeping towards the Aurors that were now screaming in terror. He turned his attention to the door, flicking a few diagnostics over it whilst absent-mindedly pulling the thick black flames back before they dove down the stairs after the sweating Germans.

"Alle Shutz abfangen!"

Finding the crack, there always was one, Harry pointed his wand at the door and whispered a word. With a crunch, the door blew through the cell, slamming into the opposite wall. The prisoner stared at him, "Potter. I have to admit I wasn't expecting that."

Harry smirked, "Hello Alastor."

* * *

"ACHTUNG!"

The German Senior Auror burst through the fireplace into the guardroom, followed by his men. He glanced across at the Class 0 Unrestricted International Floos dotted around the room. All unlit. He relaxed a little. Maybe they could stop this before it got out of ha-

"435 Gefagene entflohen ist!"

"Schiesse!"

He waved his wand, lighting up the fires around the room, which lit green as they burnt the prepared floo powder logs. A silver patronus flew through each of them, a German Shepherd bounding towards the relevant authorities in each country.

It was already out of hand.

* * *

Far away, in Hogwart's, Susan Bones swept her wand over the Gargoyle once more, reading the same. No spells used, no passwords used, just a brief conversation that the nearest listening charm hadn't managed to pick up properly due to an annoying buzzing noise that had filled the ear. She wondered, once again, just where Harry Potter had learnt all of his countersurveillance charms. She had never seen anything quite lik-

A set of ginger twins filled her head and she cursed, the gargoyle flinching away from her in case she decided to relive her glory days. It remembered her nearly as well as Harry Potter. Gargoyle's were supposed to be able to take slaps, it had known that much. She had, unfortunately, not known.

It had never quite been the same afterwards, especially after Albus had had a few words with her about the best way to slap a gargoyle. How was it supposed to know that stonework wasn't supposed to openly admire a girl's assets?

"Open." She commanded, looking at the Gargoyle hard.

"Do I have to?" It whined.

She raised an eyebrow and rolled her shoulders back loosening them up a little, before taking a step back to swing her ar- "Okay, fine, that's it, go on up, go on then, just don't hit me again. Whatever."

Susan strolled past the Gargoyle with a satisfied smile, stepping over it's outstretched leg daintily, as if stonework trying to trip you up was a daily experience. It eyed her ass with a somewhat less sulk attitude as she swayed up the stairs before shifting back into place across the entrance with a grumble about firey gingers and passing wizards.

"Hello Miss Bones. It's been a while."

"Hello Professor Dumbledore. It has indeed."

"I believe you may call me Albus. We have known each other quite a while have we not."

"Then I insist that you call me Susan." She smiled, the old man's kindly face moving down from his portrait to stand next to the door. "I don't suppose you can tell me what happened when Harry dropped by?"

"I'm afraid not, though I do have to ask…" his voice trailed off, seeming to stare into the distance, "I'm afraid we're about to be interrupted."

"Still plugged into the walls huh?"

"Harry was kind enough to restore some functionality before he disappeared."

"I see." She stared at him for a moment, the hard eyes of an experienced auror appearing from a face that it didn't seem to suit, "What did you want to ask me?"

"Nothing really." He eyed the door next to him for a second. "But the sorting hat was taken out of the castle during his last trip here." He smiled indulgently, a twinkle coming to his eye, "If it ended up in the wrong hands it would be catastrophic."

She frowned, "We have it down as a minor artefact of no particular significance."

Dumbledore had the decency to blush.

"Why is it so important?"

He looked at her over the top of his half moon glasses, his face serious, "Have you ever stopped to consider how the hat sorts people?"

Susan's eyes narrowed dangerously as the badge in her pocket vibrated. Glancing at the awkwardly shifting Dumbledore, she shook her head, "I'll do what I can. If you'll excuse me."

She stepped out of the door onto the steps and pulled the badge out, hearing running footsteps approaching rapidly. The badge vibrated again, more urgently, waiting for acknowledgement that she had read it. 'Urgent then,' she noted.

_Prisoner 345 has escaped his cell at Nurmengard. All units respond to Ministry for action._

The Auror coming to summon her from the office was knocked over as she ran towards the nearest Class 1 Unrestricted National Travel Floo.

* * *

**AN: I don't normally do AN's as I feel that they disrupt the story but I feel that I owe a brief apology to those that have waited so long.**

**I have written this chapter about four and a half times due to errors in my backups, corrupt word files, a completely screwed up word installation, some interesting template changes and every other problem that I didn't even know ****_existed_**** until they happened.**

**As such, this chapter is missing one section with Dobby, Tonks and Lupin that I lacked the heart to rewrite (again), but has gained two other sections that weren't originally included but that sprang to my mind as I rewrote (from memory) the other parts. I normally aim to get a chapter out at least every week and will try to get the next one completed and edited as fast as possible as to make up for spending so long on this one.**

**I will include the Dobby/Lupin/Tonks section that was missed out of this one in the next chapter, all things being well and presuming Susan doesn't continue to hog more chapter space than I originally intended.**

**Also, thank you to those that have left reviews longer than "plz more." I ****_like_**** reviews with detail, and normally take the time to reply to them if they bring up interesting questions or concerns that I think I'm unlikely to immediately answer in my fanfic.**

**This will hopefully be the first and last AN of this fic. Why on earth would you want to listen to me when you can read about my take on Harry Potter?**


	6. Breakouts, Bonding and Bondage

"So what brings you to my humble abode?"

"I figured you'd want to be out of retirement." Harry stepped back and glanced down the corridor, flicking his wand towards the stone corner that a few aurors were cowering behind. "And I need something from you."

Moody shifted his weight around on his cot, unable to pull himself up without a peg leg and with only one eye left, "I let them bring me here for a reason."

"To rot away and die?" Harry lent forwards, "There's more to life than killing people. You didn't have to run away quite so fast."

"Coming from a man who's spent the last 15 years drinking himself into oblivion." Moody coughed. "I'm amazed that you're still sober. It must be at least a couple of hours since your last drink if the increase in guards was anything to go by."

Harry glanced into the cell, his eyes falling away from the corridor where his wand was trained, "I got called to a meeting. Dumebledore's doing."

"Always is." The grizzled ex-auror spat onto the floor, "Always will be."

"I wondered why you agreed to help me out back then."

"I wondered why you left me to deal with them."

"No one was worth losing that war."

The grizzled man stared at Harry before nodding grimly for a second. He understood perfectly. "Selwyn was the last that we caught wasn't it?"

"Travers too. They've got family in one of the guard huts"

"Were they good?"

Harry snorted. "I borrowed Slughorn's favourite trick. They're unconscious."

"Unconscious?" The Auror's single eye pierced into Harry's green ones, "You must be losing your touch."

"The war is over."

"The war is never over."

"Quite." Harry raised an eyebrow at the scarred ex-auror, "You're going to have to get off your arse."

Moody grunted, and pulled himself to his feet, "You'll have to do something about the leg."

Harry waved his wand carelessly into the cell, a silver pool spilling out of it and slowly forming itself into a leg as it bound to Moody's stump, "I hope that'll do."

Moody's eye gleamed approvingly, "I like it."

"Thank Tom Riddle." Harry blasted the wall near the head of an overenthusiastic auror, "He invented the concept."

"Can it do eyes?"

"No. There's a other problems too. Anything more than a couple of weeks and you're probably better getting a new wooden leg. And please," Harry raised an eyebrow, "Try to avoid getting hit by anything more powerful than a stunner."

Moody grunted and pulled himself to his feet, "Got a wand?"

Harry reached inside his jacket and pulled out two and held them out with the hand not flicking spells down the corridor, "Take your pick."

Moody looked at the two wands for a second and started to guffaw, "I guess that's what happened with Selwyn and Travers then?"

A second blasting curse flew down the corridor, taking a second chunk of stone out of the corner that the aurors were cowering behind, "It's also why I'm fighting off half of the German Auror force too. Apparently losing consciousness is grounds to have a senior officer check in on you." Harry's voice twisted, almost sounding disgusted, "It's almost as if they're getting competent" Harry frowned as the sound of voices rose up from the round the corner. "If you wouldn't mind, it sounds like the French are here too."

Grabbing both, Moody stomped out of the cell and headed away from the Aurors. "Delacours still in charge there?"

Blasting open the door behind them to retrace his steps, Harry flicked his wand towards the two Aurors that were slowly staggering back to their feet, knocking them back into the wall again. "No idea."

"You're supposed to keep up to date." Moody scowled at him, "What's your excuse?"

"Been in jail."

Moody glanced at him, his wand stopping in the middle of wand movements that looked suspiciously like the bone-breaker curse variant they'd developed to crush people's skulls, "Really?"

Harry flicked a less lethal variant of the spell off towards the aurors at the end of the corridor, a black light bursting out of his wand, "Kind of."

Moody grunted, "I guess you got stuck in house arrest then?"

"It's been quite relaxing." Harry saw the first broomstick rider bearing towards the window and stopped for a second to deal with it, flames leaping from the window to engulf the broom, forcing the rider to the ground, "They stuck me in Malfoy Manor."

"I'm not sure that's as bad as a house let alone a prison."

"Coming from the guy who's in a castle. Without Dementors for company."

"No one has Dementors for company these days, Potter, or had you forgotten?"

There was a moment, that would have been an awkward silence if it wasn't for the roar of wind as Harry filled the next level with what looked to be an icestorm.

Moody glanced at him suspiciously, "Potter?"

"About that…"

Moody swore. "I'm not sure I want to know."

"It's only two of them."

Moody hexed the three guards that were trying to block off the staircase beneath them, "That's two too many Potter. You were supposed to get rid of them."

"I needed something to study for my Magical Creatures Mastery."

Moody scowled, "Most people study something harmless."

"I can name at least one senior member of the Ministry who studied Dragons for his."

"Weasleys." Moody spat it out like it was a curse.

Harry glanced over his shoulder, the final stretch of staircase to the ground floor clear in front of them, "Prewett now."

Moody eyed him up, "Prewett?"

"The family had a few disagreements after Arthur died."

"There would be."

Harry's voice seemed clinical as he continued, "And there were more _disagreements_ when Ginny died."

Moody's retort died in his throat and the man looked vaguely uncomfortable, "Ginny died? I suppose I should apologise."

"For not being there?" His voice tightened, "I wouldn't worry about it." His voice dropped to a harsh whisper, "If you were there, I'd be having this conversation with your grave."

Moody glared at the younger man's back for a second, "Good." Glancing around at the part of the prison they were in, he frowned, "Where you going Potter?"

The man didn't turn around as the reply drifted backwards, "Haven't you always wanted to use the international floo?"

* * *

Lupin dodged another branch and cursed the insane wizard with his penchant for insane animals.

Glancing over her shoulder, Tonks blanched. "Why the fuck is there a Whomping Willow here?"

Neither of them really wanted to admit it, but they had both been thinking that Harry had been given a little too much time and a little too much money. Crazy madmen in crazy estates. Fifteen years. They had both cursed the day that Harry Potter was left to rot several times that evening already.

Lupin's wand rose, a flare of fire forcing the tree to back off from the two of them as Tonks tried to back away towards him more, their backs already pressed against each other. Her Patronus slowly dimmed as the dark creatures above her pushed towards her, starved of food for too many years, seeking another meal to complement the dessicated corpses around them.

No one had faced off against a Dementor since Azkaban.

A touch of panic entered her voice for what wasn't the first time that night, "Lupin?"

Lupin growled, his eyes flashing golden in the moonlight again, and flicked his wand, sending a fire writhing amongst the branches of the aggressive tree before turning and whipping his wand around his head, a silver wolf springing from his wand and bounding towards the two creatures.

Tonks shuddered, the adrenaline in her body long since depleted, "Aren't they supposed to run?"

Lupin's face darkened, "They're too hungry."

Even as a metamorphagus, there was no way that Tonks face could have grown paler than it already was, blood loss and fear having taken their toll already that evening. She settled for a small noise as the wolf and dementors seemed to rip into each other, darkness and light mixing as Lupin's patronus baited them away from the rest of the battle.

Reaching into her cloak for what seemed to be the millionth time that evening, she tossed back another pepper-up and passed one to Lupin, who was stood watching the Whomping Willow as it whipped it's branches round, extinguishing the fire he had started in it's branches.

"How many more of these can we take?"

Tonks glanced at him, seeing the lines of stress in his face. "Don't count."

Lupin shook himself, wishing he still had something other than his wand. His revolver had been taken by the devil's snare that protected the outer limits of the estate, his sword destroyed as they battled some kind of modified acid slugs. Turning his head he peered through the gloom and smoke.

They had been ordered to retreat, to escape the estate to allow reinforcements to arrive before attempting again, the casualties mounting too high for even Prewett to demand that they continue the march onwards into the grounds in the darkness.

It was at that point that they'd discovered that directional spells didn't work on the grounds of the estate. And that despite what the ministry tried to tell anyone, Manticores were definitely _not_ extinct in Britain. Remus and Tonks had been separated from the group and even after dispatching the rabid beast, still hadn't managed to find anything but corpses and monsters.

Edging forwards cautiously, Remus pushed against the pull of the moon, hoping that the moon was on the far side of the estate. Tonks, equally cautiously, followed, her eyes roving about the gloom.

A crack came from the bushes ahead of them, and both wands flew towards it, both trembling with nervous anticipation.

"Master Remus and Mistress Tonks."

Tonks glanced at the figure for a second, then at the dark recess behind it. A love for dark spaces. A completely and utterly insane hunting style that caused all kinds of whacky things to happen. Her mind cast about, trying to remember a creature that shared all of those things, thinking through years of education.

She gave Remus a puzzled look for a second before hissing in his ear, "Since when is your greatest fear a house elf?"

* * *

"Move it Moody." Harry placed his arm underneath the old Auror, picking him up. "Now isn't the time to start acting your age."

"You try getting hit by four stunners in a row."

"I generally prefer to dodge them." Harry rolled his head to one side, letting one of the other stunners slide past his ear as he flicked a more permanently disabling curse back, blowing two Aurors out of a window.

"Fuck you Potter."

Harry smirked, flicking a silver shield up behind them just as one of the patrols behind them finally managed to catch up. "I thought you knew I don't swing that way."

"Fuck you again Potter."

A black spell shot through the shield, blasting against Moody's silver leg, gouging a chunk out. Moody looked at it critically as the silver started to shift and melt, leaving a silver trail along the ground behind them. "Does that count as it being hit by something more powerful than a stnuner?"

Harry flicked an identical coloured black bolt down the corridor, throwing an auror back with six or seven broken bones, not bothering to answer.

The ex-auror scowled as the silver trail along the ground grew longer, throwing a few curses towards the aurors blocking their way forward to make himself feel better. It didn't really work as a stress reliever, so he tried again, clearing their path completely.

The big double doors of the international floo hall were rapidly approaching, even with Harry having to practically drag Moody along the ground – a small levitation charm aiding, but not completely helping. The route was mostly clear, if a little strewn with groaning bodies.

"You know why I've come for you I suppose."

Moody glanced across. "I can guess."

"I need to know wh-"

"What happened to the others?"

"What do you think?" Harry's face hardened, "The war is never over."

"Give me a reason."

"Azkaban."

Moody stiffened. "Do I want to know?"

"I need to."

"Ah."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the crack of thunder as the younger wizard blasted open the doors to the international floo. Instantly a flurry of spellfire burst from the doors towards them, only to be swept aside in a shield and equal fire returned, forcing the Aurors back into the room.

They were closing the grates. He could hear them. Fireplace by fireplace. He frowned.

This was going to be highly annoying.

* * *

_I was never quite sure, and remain completely baffled, as to the reasons that Harry ever confided in me, but it had bred a lasting trust between us that despite the Horcruxes best efforts, it could not sever. Barely three days since Ronald Weasley left, Harry was trying to, admittedly badly, comfort me for what he thought was an intense emotionally charged time for me._

_Perhaps it was._

_Myself and Ronald had always shared a connection of some kind. As many people have noted since, our constant arguing was taken by many to be flirting, our constant disagreements a source of foreplay, our mutual friendship of Harry Potter a connecting influence between two people that could barely have been more different. Even if Madam Rita Skeeter dared to imply that we were – at one point – competing for the forbidden feelings of Harry Potter, I do not think that anyone in particular expected me to be able to meet what seemed to be an irrevocable departure from our group with calm equanimity._

_If there is one secret that this book should never reveal, one secret that I had long since decided to take to the grave, it is this: the departure of Ronald Weasley was not met with sorrow and sadness. It was not met with a destruction of my soul and self-worth, nor a destruction of everything I ever held dear._

_It was met with h-_

Hermione dipped her quill into the ink, glancing over the last few pages she had written. It was harder than she thought to write this section. Harder than anticipated. Her nose wrinkled in annoyance, her brow creasing. The previous chapters could have been written by anyone, they were nearly all public knowledge with the exception of a few things like the philosopher's stone, the basilisk, the… Her thoughts derailed as she stifled a laugh with a shake of her head.

Maybe they couldn't have been written by _anyone_, but at least they were public knowledge. To some extent.

This was different.

She sank her head into her hands, not for the first time that evening.

This was difficult.

Her eyes peeked out from between her fingers, rereading the parchment in front of her. Was this where it had all gone wrong? She didn't know. A sound came from upstairs, a creaking bed. Her eyes turned there. Molly. Ginny's daughter. It was easier to think of it like that. Harry's daughter was a harder pill to swallow. He had done so much. Too much. And now Molly was here.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair, picking up the quill and nibbling the end of it, noticing absently that she would have to restock her box of Chocolate Quills ("Writing with flavour!") next time she went to Diagon Alley. Or saw the twins. Whichever came sooner.

When she saw the twins, she supposed. They had to… prepare. She tried not to think about it, casting her eyes over her diaries, now closed, and her notes, not needed.

What could she sa-

Her eyes glanced up at the roof as Molly was turned in bed again, causing the creaks to echo across the study.

What _should_ she say?

She picked up the quill and dipped it in the ink.

_It was met with happiness._

* * *

A spell lashed out, flying past Harry and forcing him to duck as he stood next to Moody. The hearths were closing, one by one, iron grates crashing down to block off fireplaces.

Harry glanced behind them, seeing a second contingent of red-robed men closing off their escape, then down at the heavily breathing Moody, whose silver leg was almost completely destroyed. He sighed, frowned, and lifted his wand.

"You know where to go Moody. I'll deal with this."

Without another word, Harry banished the scowling ex-auror towards the final fireplace, sending him flying past the startled expression of the slowest Auror, getting Moody safely into the green flames of the floo. The last grate slammed into place, closing off the last exit as Moody's form flew upwards into the floo system.

Harry's face seemed unreadable, an immovable expression hardening his features. Every angle of escape was cut off, leaving just him, his wand and a need to get through to the fireplaces before more reinforcements arrived.

The aurors spread out in a circle around Harry, the ones behind him closing off every angle, wands all at the ready. He glanced over them, recognising their faces, the way they held themselves, the way they left themselves open. This is what he had been trained for. This is what he had been created for. This was the war he had been forged to fight.

His crooked smile crossed his face, "Did any of you have any last words?"

There was a moment.

One of the younger ones he hadn't recognised snapped his wand forwards, a burst of red light flicking towards him.

As if it were the signal they'd been waiting for, a hail of spellfire burst out of their wands, flying towards the only man not in the deep red robes that marked an auror. Harry rolled sideways, feeling the air heat up as spells crackled past him, poor aim and bad positioning dropping a few of the slower Auror's as friendly fire took it's toll. Throwing a shield up with his empty hand to block a second flurry of curses, his wand lashed out, purple sparks flashing through the air and throwing three of the men down.

His shield hissed as it caught spells, it's silver hue dimming in the light. His wand touched it for a second, and it turned to a deep blue, bouncing back the curses as they hit it. Two men advanced around the edge, forcing him backwards as he duelled both of them at once, all of their wands in constant motion. Two twists of his wrists, four broken legs later, a breathing space. Harry glanced around the room for a second, checking where everyone was standing before collapsing the shield. His wand flew round his head in a loop, a dark wind billowing from his wind, throwing the room into a deep darkness.

"Where did he go?" A burst of red dropped him to the ground.

Another one of them hushed him, a second too late, only to find a spell cutting through the black fog, throwing him backwards, dripping blood onto the floor.

"Guys?" A wand touched his neck and he collapsing, writhing silently on the floor.

The room fell silent except for the sound of breathing, the few remaining men feeling their hearts starting to race.

Footsteps approached the room, a single pair of them. A short bark of laughter, definitely female, before a slow clap, "Oh congratulations Mr Potter. Instant Peruvian bullshit. Not seen this in a while."

A deeper male voice spoke, "The Weasley Twins have some of the best ideas."

An auror fired a spell towards the voice, only to feel a robe brush past him, a hand grasping his arm and throwing him across the ground, knocking the feet out of another, only for a spell to catch both of them and banish them into a wall and the blissful sleep of unconsciousness.

The female voice spoke up again, "Would you like to dispel it or shall I?"

Two of the aurors stood back-to-back in the gloom, one of them trying to cast a silent lumos, and finding that the light couldn't cut through the darkness. They jumped as the male voice spoke up next to them, "Please, by all means."

Their skulls cracked together hard enough for them to drop to the ground as a blinding light pierced through the darkness around them, showing the groaning or silent aurors on the ground as the few remaining ones were dropped by carefully placed spells.

Harry Potter stood in the centre of the groaning circle of aurors, a hood around his shoulders, a wand held loosely in his hands as he twirled it, faint scarring still traced faintly against his skin.

"Nice to see you again Susan."

"Did you have to take all of my men down?" She sounded vaguely disappointed, a little excited, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"The quality of Auror has gone downhill."

"The Enforcers take the best."

"Dolores for you I suppose."

There was a moment of silent commiseration between the two before Harry straightened from his relaxed posture and let his wand drop back into his holster.

"Well it has been lovely catching up."

"I'd like to say likewise." Her wand was still at the ready, ground, her body poised and graceful.

"No need to be like that."

She flicked her wand, a pair of cuffs conjured into the air and sliding across the ground to rest against Harry's feet. "Just put the cuffs on."

Harry smirked and picked them up, turning them between his hands, "Seems a bit.. kinky.. officer.."

Susan scowled, a touch of red in her cheeks, "Don't make me ask again Potter."

His voice grew colder, "Then don't insult me by wasting time."

"We like to give D-"

Harry moved so fast that she didn't even have time to finish her sentence, his hands ripping off both of his sleeves, exposing both of his arms, and the wand holster strapped to his right wrist. "And really don't insult me by comparing me to them."

Her eyes narrowed, meeting his gaze. He waited. She frowned. Flicking her wand once, her sleeves fell to the ground, neatly severed by a charm.

His eyes glanced at her arms and a smirk passed across his face, "Just the sleeves? I'm almost disappointed."

She deliberately kept her wand pointed low, letting the comment bounce off of her skin. "Put the cuffs on Potter."

He tossed the handcuffs back towards her. They bounced twice, landing exactly halfway between them and leaving his hands empty. "We both know I'm not coming in." His smirk reappeared, "It'd take fifteen years preparing to duel me to even stand a chance."

Susan raised an eyebrow, her voice deadpan. "Well. Fancy that."

A look of wariness crept across his face. It was too late. Her wand flew up from the ground. A wave of crackling green burst from her towards the other wizard. Harry's wand seemed to appear in his hand, shooting out of the holster so fast that she didn't even register the movement before a stone block sprang from the ground to shield him as he flicked his wand towards her, an angry red bolt sizzling through the air.

A golden shield appeared, absorbing the bolts with dull thuds, and blocking the purple fire that followed them as she gestured with her wand towards the fireplaces, the grates forming spears and bursting towards the wizard. He seemed to flex, a rush of air sweeping out across the room, throwing the spears against the walls and shoving the groaning Aurors away from the battle.

He stepped towards her, his wand starting a pattern that Susan recognised from one of the many memories she had watched over and over. Vertically down, a shield she needed to conjure. A diagonal across his body towards his left shoulder, a block of stone conjured to catch the curse. A rapid zigzag across his body, a step to the left and a roll away from the door to defend her eardrums from being burst.

A final twirl and push towards her.

A blast of boiling water shot towards her. She stumbled, her feet still not quite firm underneath her as she twisted her wand across her body to freeze the bubble in the air.

By unspoken agreement there was a moment of truce, his calm veneer barely holding, her chest heaving as she caught her breath, having raced down several corridors when the first auror alert went off in the room, knowing, wanting, to get here before he left.

"Impressive."

"I've reviewed every fight that anyone ever saw whilst training t-," she started, trying to regain her wind, "-training to bring you down the next time you came back."

"The next time?" His eyebrow rose slightly.

"You died at Hogwarts." Her voice rose to an angry hiss as she pulled herself away from the wall, feeling her body starting to wake up to the battle ahead, "I was there, I watched you fall."

His mask dropped, a look of anger crossing his face.

"Do you know what it takes to come back from the dead Harry? Do you know what it takes?" She took a step towards him, her wand rising in a trembling, slowly steadying, hand, "Because I do."

Her short stature counted for nothing, her presence seeming to flare out around her as she closed the distance between them, magic filling the air, "And I will not stand for one dark lord replacing another."

Harry's eyes seemed to burn with an angry light for a second, "Do not presume about things you know nothing about."

With a growl, a burst of sheer magic burst from her wand, forcing Harry to move to one side as she continued to advance upon him.

"Things I know nothing about? Things I know nothing about?" A second blast of magic seemed to catch him by surprise, glancing his arm and sending him flying. Her wand tracked him unerringly as he landed with catlike grace, "I almost prefer Voldemort. At least he has the decency to remain dead."

"I did what I had to do."

Susan's eyes met his, "Then I have no need to ask for forgiveness for what I will do to you." She swept her wand around, pulling the magic she needed to the front of her mind.

Rolling under a flurry of green curses, he pulled his wand up, the floor underneath her exploding as she dived gracefully to one side, her wand flinging transformations towards the wall, causing gargoyles to burst from the stonework.

A curse escaped Harry's lips as he blasted the first one to pieces, giving her an advantage that she followed up with a bolt of cold air, that instantly froze the swirling water that Harry's wand caused to surge forth. A blasting curse immediately behind the cold air blew the wall to pieces, sending ice shards flying towards Harry.

He turned, his wand desperately slashing across his body, trying to catch the ice shards in a wall of fire, but missing one which buried itself in his shoulder, his blood mixing with the rapidly melting ice in a dark red patch across his robes. His eyes darkened.

A final blasting curse sent stone splinters through the air as he dodged the second bolt of cold air, before slashing his wand through the air, dark crescents springing towards the red haired woman stood firing spells at him. Her shield shattered, it's silver hues barely visible between conjuration and destruction, the second and third curses passing through unchecked, leaving a wound across her abdomen and left arm.

She grimaced with the pain, and conjured another shield to catch the next series of slashes, her feet slowly treading backwards as the wizard strode towards her, his wand a constant flurry of activity forcing her onto the defensive. Through the haze of spellfire she began to recognise the wand movements again, another pensieve memory coming to her, part of her self-enforced training on Harry Potter. She paled.

The silly little twirl thing, a burst of light making her flinch.

A set of slashes across his body, a desperate shield thrown up hastily, pulling her wand towards her head, just like he planned.

The green flash of light as her wand was sent flying across the room. The flying ropes tightening around her limbs as his wand rose, pulling up the stonework around her into a framework of bars, a glorified birdcage springing into existence around her as he closed the final step towards her, a final transfiguration gilding the bars.

She was helpless, strung up lik- like a- she blushed furiously, anger at a forbidden memory resurfacing. Harry stood by the bars, looking in at Susan, an unreadable face on. Leaning in, he stretched out a hand, touching first her left then her right arm carefully, the fingers tingling across her skin. A moment of relief. His shoulders relaxed, a small grin came onto his face as she glared at him, aware that her robes had been ripped to pieces, exposing more of her body than she was really comfortable with.

He lent in closely, his mouth moving towards hers, their eyes meeting. She felt her heart race, her face start to flush. A burning rose through her body, a deep heat that she hadn't felt in a long time as his eyes took in every inch. She could feel his hot, soft breath against her face, almost ta- A soft click echoed through the deadly silent room.

"I suggest, _officer_, that you don't follow me."

She swore at him as she realised the handcuffs were now locking her wrists together outside the bars above her head. With a cheeky wave, he strode into one of the fireplace that she had ripped open during the brief duel. It burst to life with green flames as he stepped into it, carrying him away to a destination she couldn't hear.

A sound of racing footsteps. The doors to the international floo room burst open again, a second squad of aurors flocked inwards, before freezing at her predictament. The patrol leader didn't know how to react, a curious look of suppressed laughter flickering in his eyes as his eyes flickered up and down her body, noting her flushed expression and ripped clothing.

"Madam Bones."

She glared him in the eyes trying to silence his unspoken laughter, "See to my men and get me out of this goddamned cage."

There was a stifled, startled laugh, from a straggler at the back of the group, before one of his compatriots silenced him with a hasty spell. It would not be pleasant if Susan Bones was left to deal with him.

Susan scowled even more and chanced a glance upwards at her hands with a hint of trepidation.

Handcuffs bound her wrists together.

She started to swear inside her head, cursing the day that she ever went near Harry fucking Potter.

_Pink and fluffy _handcuffs bound her hands together.

She was going to have _words_ with Mr Potter next time they met.

Fucking wizards.


	7. Really Bad Men Are Too Cool For Jail

**AN: It has come to my attention that mobile viewers of this fanfic cannot see the lines that I use to seperate sections. I apologise for any confusion and promise to now use something a little less ambiguous in future updates. Hopefully will sort this out at some point, but I'm not holding my breath. I'd rather that they get flagfic working again tbth..****  
**

~~TDD~~

"A week. A whole bloody week. A whole fucking week." Susan slammed a folder shut on the desk in front of her. "This is what you give me? The perp was Harry Potter and his methods were unknown? He broke into Nurmengard and fought his way out through most of Europe's best aurors for crying out loud. How hard can it be to find some kind of evidence?"

The Auror across the desk from her flinched as she shoved the folder towards him, forcing him to catch it before the papers went everywhere.

"I suggest, Selwyn, that you and Travers get your act together. You've failed this department twice over now."

Staring at him as the disgraced Auror left the room, she slammed the door rather empathetically before sitting back down. A week. A whole bloody week. A whole fucking week. And now some of the better Aurors in the office, two of the ones with something to prove, were telling her they had no idea what the hell was going on.

She flipped through another report on her desk, noting that the Enforcers were still pushing for a second assault on Potter Manor to try to end the ongoing siege.

_Because the first assault went so well._

The casualty report hurt to look at, even though it wasn't the first, second or tenth time she'd glanced through it. She almost felt sorry for Prewett. Almost. Good men, good women. Too many. A couple of the highest ranked enforcers too. Remus and Tonks, she noted, were both missing in action, presumed dead. She snorted as she read the brief description from the last person who saw them:

As we pushed past what appeared to be a more aggressive variant on Devil's Snare, three Manticores burst from the undergrowth. Taken aback by the presence of creatures believed to be extinct from our shores, we were unable to react quickly enough to remain together. Enforcer Lupin and Enforcer Tonks attempted to draw off one of the Manticores and succeeded. Their ultimate fate is unknown, but given the strength and power of the Manticores it seems unlikely that either of them survived.

She had classed the two of them as dead before and left them to die. They had both taken immense wounds during the Battle of Hogwarts. She had walked past them as she followed Harry into the forest. They weren't that easy to kill. A manticore? She just wanted to know where they were.

The forest.

Her eyes darkened for a second, her reading long since forgotten. How could he? Why would he? The nerve, the dare. She closed the folder on the Potter Manor and grabbed the recent Hogwarts incident one instead. Her note about the sorting hat had been queried by someone upstairs and dismissed. Probably Prewett or Weatherby. Minor artefacts weren't significant enough to report missing, apparently.

_Have you ever stopped to consider_ how _it manages to sort everyone?_

She was a little worried. It was unlike Albus Dumbledore to be so blunt, even cryptically. A hat that could see into your soul. A hat that could see into your mind. A hat that could… she didn't know. The Department of Mysteries had apparently referred her request for more information to their senior archivist, who had thrown her the standard Ministry approved file.

As if that was all they had.

Not that she had expected anything else. They were the Department of _Mysteries_. No one got any information from them. Though if Harry fucking Potter walked in they'd probably show him the ropes, give him a badge and call him an operative. If he wasn't already. She'd been there when Croaker had first tried to recruit him, back at Hogwarts.

She saw the clock. It was a little early, but that just meant less people. Maybe she could even go for a run without denting the productivity of the department. Time for gym. She sealed the folders back in her desk and headed downstairs.

He would be there. And yes, he was there. Prewett always was. She knew about the poker games, of course she did, you had to be blind to miss it. She suspected that he cheated. Most people tried to, but he was senior enough to not called out on it. Her lip curled. All of the ministry was like this now, currying favours, struggling along trying to avoid annoying any of the superiors whilst secretly undermining everyone they could.

A pit of vipers.

Harry had made that comparison first, all the way back when the Defence Assosciation was still a thing. Before he'd turned dark. Before the world had become a more complicated place.

"Good morning."

She jumped a little, her steady rhythm on the treadmill falling for a second before it picked up.

"It's unusual for you to be this quiet."

Her feet pushed the treadmill more, ignoring Prewett, ignoring the fact that he was lifting weights with his top off. There were people that would die for that view, tattoos and all. She wasn't one of them.

"I read your report. The one on Nurmengard."

It was conversational, almost.

"I note that you missed out one important part."

The treadmill flew faster, her feet pushing her towards what was almost an outright sprint.

Prewett raised an eyebrow, "Why did Harry Potter go to Nurmengard? Oh, of course, you can say that he and Moody are old friends, that now that he's leaving his Manor he's going to reunite his old gang. But we both know better don't we."

She ignored him, trying to complete her run.

"If that was the case, you'd have sent Aurors to the Granger Institute. It's not like _she_ would turn on him."

She shook her head. She already had turned on him. That was common knowledge.

"No, I think that there's a better reason for why he broke into Nurmengard."

"Enlighten us then." A pissed off voice came from behind the two of them.

"Weatherby. Didn't see you there." A hint of surprise, a hint of annoyance. Tones of.. anger. Susan stored it away.

"If you were being less of an ass you might notice that no one in this room really cares about what you think." Complete and utter hostility. Susan paused for a second, before picking up her running again.

The air was tense. You could have cut it with a knife.

Prewett dropped the weights and threw a towel over his shoulders. "Have it your way _Weatherby._" He began to walk past the entrance, before suddenly grabbing Susan by the shoulders and pushing her against a wall, "But lets ask this first shall we: how did your mother die, Madam Bones?"

Her hand lashed out, leaving a mark across his face. Her knee rose up between his legs, dropping him where he stood.

"Don't touch me."

Prewett started to laugh, a deep belly laugh, tarred with only the slightest hint of pain, "Well doesn't that answer that question then?"

Her heart stopped.

He knew.

Their eyes met.

He pulled himself up, sitting against the base of one of the other machines nearby, "I suppose this means we'll have to catch them quickly then."

"Make sure you remember that." She stalked out the door, knowing that she'd left before she'd finished, knowing that he'd won. But he was always going to win that one. He knew. No one was supposed to know

_But Harry Potter knew._

He must know. Why else would he have gone after Moody?

Maybe she should have mentioned it in her report. Maybe. But probably not. It wasn't worth the risk of revealing it to the Ministry. They would want answers. Answers that she couldn't, wouldn't, wasn't allowed to, give.

She just hoped that they got the answers they needed to hear before Harry got the vengeance she feared he would take.

~~TDD~~

Molly was not a morning person. Molly had never been a morning person. Which should be noted, given her parentage, of whom both were definitely not morning people, was hardly surprising. But it meant, for the last week, the duty of waking her up had been equally divvied between Hermione and her daughters, Lily and Emma. They were treating it of somewhat as a game and Molly's grandfather, and his closest friends, would have definitely approved of the methods they were employing.

It had started small. An alarm clock that wouldn't shut up unless she answered a riddle had been the first attempt, and a charm that filled her room with songbirds on the second morning, and a miniature thunderstorm the third morning. The somewhat mischievous girls, combined with the formidable Granger intellect, were forces to be reckoned with. Molly knew, or at least believed, that if not for Harry's insistence that she be wellread then she probably would have been hit by more than _one_ bolt of lightning on the morning of the thunderstorm.

Which was, she knew, the day that the wake-up calls began to twist into a daily obstacle course full of magic for her to fight to get her brunch.

On this particular morning, if one in the afternoon can be called morning, it had fallen to Hermione to wake up the ginger haired child.

It started with the smell of bacon. Bacon was good. Meaty, fatty smells lingering in the air, tantalisingly dangling in front of everyone, slowly waking up the household of people who lived in a flat above the library. As Hermione believed, no one could willingly resist the temptation of bacon.

Somewhat blearily, Molly had stumbled out of bed and towards the door, before freezing in midstep and checking the door _very_ closely. Then poking it with her wand. She was Harry Potter's daughter. Paranoia ran in the family. With a giggle and a tap of her wand she flicked a cancelling charm at the base of the door, removing the _tarantallegra_ that would have made her tap dance across the floor and, presumably into the kitchen, before walking confidently through t-

Molly hesitated for a second, wrinkling up her nose and flicking her wand through the air a few times. They were going to make her wear _what_? She shuddered and changed the charm a little. Pink and orange didn't go together in the _slightest_ and she didn't want to know when that dress was last in fashion. The new colours, she decided, would be much better. She nodded. It wasn't Christmas for several months, but red and gold were nice colours generally. Appropriate too, given she was the only Gryffindor in a house of Ravencl- well. Nearly a house of Ravenclaws.

Smiling, the teenage girl stepped through the door, happy that she had managed to find all of the morning's traps.

She burst into song, the look of surprise on her face almost managing to completely mitigate the look of absolute horror promising vengeance on the woman that dared to make her _sing_. She didn't even recognise the song.

Hermione stuck her head out of the door at the end and looked disappointed at the lack of dancing. Molly tried to sigh, feeling another verse coming on, but gave up and just wandered into the kitchen, still singing, where Lily and Emma were both stifling laughs as they devoured what looked to be their second bacon sandwich of the day.

"You know you're allowed to do it back to us?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, passing a plate, complete with sandwich, over to Molly as she finished the third (and final) verse.

Molly crooked an eyebrow, scowl still on her face "That means getting up early."

"I don't get up before eleven." Emma chirped up, her classmate as bouncy as ever.

Molly's scowl was unchanged, "Like I said. Early."

There was a second peel of laughter from the Grangers before Hermione commented, "You're more like Harry than you think."

"So you say."

Lily shot a look at her mother, who rose her eyebrows defensively, "What?"

"Harry?"

Hermione's tone turned sarcastic, "Lord Potter if you prefer."

"You never talk about him."

"Do too!"

Lily opened her mouth again, only to be poked in the side by Emma, "Leave it Lily. Mum's just having a moment."

Hermione looked across the kitchen at her daughters, "I must talk about him. We were the best of fri-" she tailed off suddenly, staring absently into the distance. "Maybe you're right."

Emma and Lily shared a look.

Shaking her head, Hermione seemed to come back to herself, "But I don't really talk about any of those days. It's not like its just Harry I don't talk about. We don't talk about any of them."

"You talk about Professor McGonagall."

"And Flitwick." Emma added.

"Filius is a special case." She stared back at her kids, "So's Minerva."

Emma was relentless, "You told us all about Susan when she got promoted, and you talk about Uncle Charlie and Uncle Bill."

Lily raised an eyebrow straight back at her mother, "And Fred and George are here all the time."

"Why don't you ask them about Harry then?"

Lily snorted, "Fred refuses to talk about Ron, let alone Harry, and George told us that if we ever mentioned either of them ever again he'd bar us from his store. For ever. And that was before he threate-"

Hermione held up a hand. "Fine. I get the point." She pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. "What's brought all this on?"

"Molly asked," they said, their voices ringing in unison.

Molly blinked. She had. A throwaway comment one afternoon whilst she was working on some Defence essay with Emma. _I've never really got to know my dad properly. You don't know how lucky you are to have your mum around all the time._. She hadn't thought either of the two girls had paid that much attention.

Hermione seemed to be taken aback too. "If you insist, I suppose. What do you want to know?"

The three girls grinned.

"Well-"

"-what about-"

"-everything?"

Hermione's head hit the kitchen table.

~~TDD~~

" Selwyn."

"Yes Travers?"

"'ow did 'arry Potter get the manticores?"

"What?"

"I mean, 'e's been locked up in 'is 'ouse ite? So where did 'e get the fooking manticores?"

"What manticores?"

"The ones the enforcers ran into."

Selwyn stared at Travers for a second, his quill freezing in the middle of crossing off yet another dead end lead. "Why were you reading a report on that?"

"'oped it was interestin'."

"Oh."

Selwyn flipped open one of the folders of paper that they'd picked up as part of the case files and flicked through a few pages, before looking back at Travers, who was scratching his arse.

"'ey, Selwyn?"

"Yes Travers?"

"Where did 'arry Potter get Devil's Snare?" Travers flicked through another page of the report in front of 'im, "And how did 'e get a whoomping wellow? I 'fort they were restrict'd."

Selwyn's head sank down to the desk with a thud. It couldn't be _that_ easy could it? He grabbed a quill and sent a memo off to the relevant department.

"Travers?"

"Yeah?"

"Good job."

Travers snorted dismissively., and flicked a wad of paper idly across the office to land in the bin.

~~TDD~~

"I can't tell you everything?"

"Why not?"

"Did you and Harry have a sordid love affair? Was there more than just studying going on in those late night study sessions, Mum?"

Hermione stared at her daughter in shock, "You aren't _serious_ are you? Late night study lessons?" She snorted, "As if Harry would ever manage to study that long."

"So there _were_ study sessions." Emma lent across the table enthusiastically, "I said that there was something Lily."

"Emma!"

Molly wasn't sure whether Lily or Hermione had spoken first, but the scandalised tone of voice was identical. She tried to suppress a giggle and ended up snorting with full-blown laughter as the conversation descended into name-calling.

It was like being in a family.

The thought sobered her. It was a strange feeling. She'd never quite felt it before, her dad being who he was.

Lily stood up, collecting the plates, and gave her shoulder a squeeze as she went past. "Don't worry Molly. Mum'll get round to answering questions sometime. I'll remind her."

Molly felt the tears well up. Gratitude. Almost as unfamiliar a feeling. Those that knew she was a Potter rarely treated her so well. "Thank you."

Lily raised an eyebrow, "Thank you." She bent forwards so you could whisper into Molly's ear, "I haven't seen her this happy in a long time."

"Your mum?"

"Yeah." A shadow passed across her face, "Normally you mention Harry Potter and she has to go and gather herself." Lily shrugged. "You're doing something right."

Molly let the conversation pull her back as Lily continued to clear the table.

"At least I didn't inherit your buck-teeth!"

"I'll have you know I don't even have those any more."

"Only because you tricked your parents."

"And you'd know all about that I suppose?"

"Tricking my parents? I dunno mum, how does Neville look naked?"

"What?"

Emma looked at her, "Please say you found those drawings?"

"You drew Neville naked?" Hermione sounded both shocked and amused.

"Only so I could stick them in that defence book on your desk. The one you were reading?"

"_Of Greater Dark Arts?_"

"Yeah."

Hermione started laughing, "That book's a load of crap. Neville wanted to use it for one of his classes so I bought him a copy. I didn't even read it, just passed it onto him."

Emma went tomato-red allowing Molly's bad mood to disappear as she laughed at the embarrassment of her classmate.

Lily cut in from by the sink, "Well done there Emma. Good job. Great prank." Waving her wand at the pile of dishes she smirked at the younger girl, "I suppose you should just be grateful you didn't inherit the famous Weasley red hair."

"There was no ch-" Hermione's hand flew up to her mouth, and there was an awkward silence for a second.

"Mum?"

Hermione's eyes flicked from one daughter to another, eyes glancing over Molly as well. "I've just remembered, I'm supposed to be taking one of Neville's classes this term. I've got to ask him for that book back at some point." It didn't sound convincing.

Lily eyed up her mother for a second before pulling up a chair noisily and sitting back down, "So come on then. Tell us a story mum. Tell us about Harry Potter."

She threw a grateful look at her older daughter before raising an eyebrow, "He's the kind of person that you work up to. Pick someone else. Dumbledore, or Gin-. No. Not Ginny. Dean would work too."

Lily tapped the paper on the table, "What about this guy? The one that just broke out of that prison in Germany?"

"Alastor?" Hermione rubbed her forehead, "He was a tough old guy. Used to be known as Mad-eye Moody. One of the best Aurors of his generation. Hated dark wizards and everything that they stood for."

"And Harry broke him out?"

Hermione leaned back in her chair with a sigh, "They had a lot in common. Hating Dark Wizards was just the start. Both were Dumbledore's men through and through. Harry said that to Scrigmeour once. Never seen a Minister end a conversation so quickly, apart from Umbridge maybe."

"Mad-eye was something special though. Lost his leg and his eye in the first war, lost most of his left lung and everything important below the belt in the second. If I had to guess, I'd say he was one of the few people that Harry ever thought he would lose a straight up fight against back before he really got going." Hermione tapped her fingers idly on the table, "Not that I ever saw Moody lose. He was just that good. Not in the duelling ring, too many rules, but on the battlefield. Not that it mattered really. He was a lot more important than just another fighter, no matter how good he was."

Seeing the girls lean in with interest, she pulled her chair closer to the table, "He used to be called the Keeper of the Secrets. Every single dirty secret that Dumbledore had, every single thing that he wanted protected. Moody knows it all."

"So that's why he got broke out then?" Emma's voice was unusually serious for the usually fun-loving girl, "Cus he knows stuff?"

"It's more than that." Hermione frowned. "You've heard of a Fidelius?"

There were three nods at the table. She wasn't surprised. Ginny's daughter would have been pushed towards stuff like this by Ha- her father. And her daughters read more than was healthy.

"Moody holds _all_ of the Fidelius secrets. Not just the small ones like the old Order safehouses, but the big ones too. Ministry as well as Order. He work-"

"The Order?"

Hermione started for a second, "You don't know what that is?"

Molly spoke up, "It's that group Dumbledore used to run right? Harry used talk about it sometimes." She hesitated. "In his sleep."

A fond smile came from Hermione, "He always used to talk in his sleep." She shook it off, "He worked at the ministry too; in the same role. If there was something you needed to know, Mad-eye was probably protecting it. They figured that if it was anyone else, then they might be able to torture it out of them, or at least kill them"

Lily stretched her arms out towards the centre of the table, pushing against the wood, "So Mad-eye knows everything that anyone ever wanted to protect with the ultimate protection?"

Hermione's hand went back to her forehead, rubbing it again, "I wouldn't phrase it quite like that, but yes. Basically."

Molly frowned, "So why the hell would Dad want to break him out of jail?"

Hermione tried to stifle a laugh, but couldn't stop one from bursting past her lips. Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill, she scribbled an owl address down and shoved it across the table towards Molly. "If you figure that out, let this person know."

"Susan Bones? Isn't she the head of-"

"Yup. I'm sure she'd be _very_ interested to know what you've got to think on the topic."

And with that, Hermione left the room, leaving the three teenagers to get on with their day.

~~TDD~~

"Are you certain?"

"Nearly completely."

The younger man downed his beer, keeping a close eye on the ginger man opposite. "Crap."

"You'll do what you must?"

"Have I ever not?"

"I lived in hope."

"It might not be the end of th-"

"He's marked. We both know what that means."

There was a silent commiseration between them, neither of them really wanting to put it into words. A moment. There were always moments here.

The other person passed an envelope across the table. "Someone is looking into the Sorting Hat."

"You blocked it?"

"Of course."

"Thank you."

"Naturally, there might be some follow-up and there's no way that I can cont-"

"Do what you can." The younger man stood up, the hood around his face still pulled tight, hiding it. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

The other said nothing but waited for the younger to leave before signalling for another drink.

Sometimes you just needed one more.

~~TDD~~

Molly was reading. This wasn't particularly unusual. Molly enjoyed reading. Nor was it particularly unusual for the books she read to be of the standard she was reading. Whilst her wandwork and incantations may not be up to scratch, despite her dad's best attempts, the fact remained that she was, theoretically, ahead of those around her.

Hermione sighed, spying her sat at one of the tables in the library, buried in books. She looked at the books she held one last time, trying to decide if this was the right thing to do.

"She needs some kind of answers, mum. We all do. It's frankly insulting that anyone expects us to believe that bullshit in the history books. She has the right to know."

Lily's doing. Always Lily's doing. The older one. Coming to university sometime soon. If she was ready. A tendril of fear touched her spine. If the Granger Institute was ready. It wasn't that old, she had taken a long time to get the funding to start it up. The _anonymous_ funding to start it up. She had her suspicions. Harry had never confirmed them, nor the questions about the trust funds that had appeared for both of her daughters. She knew he was trying to make amends, she knew that he thought she would never understand, never see what he saw. And knew that he wasn't going to listen, no matter how many letters she wrote.

Not that it stopped her.

The Granger Institute. Hermione had always been amazed at the rather medieval aspects of the Mastery system within Britain and the territories. Master and apprentice, the knowledge being passed on word-of-mouth, with only the very occasional book being written. She hated it, with a passion. It stood against the open sharing of information that had revolutionised the Muggle world, driven a new age of innovation forwards. She had set out to change all of that.

The traditionalists were outraged. She had begged for five years. Just five years, to let her prove them wrong.

Five years and the equivalent of nearly two hundred years of research later and they'd granted her all kinds of rights. Apparently the same as Hogwarts had, and some of the other European institutes for the elite, though she had to wonder. She was essentially sovereign, a lady, nobility in her own right, a position granted by being in charge of the Institute.

It didn't mean much. Not in light of everything else. But it had been useful.

Hermione had read the rulebooks very, very carefully. Hence Professor _Longstaff_. And a few others. Those that wanted a quiet life. Those that needed to be away from the eyes of the ministry. The Severus Snapes's of the new world. That she had helped create. She quashed the feeling of guilt.

_Does she has a right to know?_

Hermione stepped forwards, clearing her throat. "Molly. Sorry to disturb you."

"Can I help you?" She made no move to clear the table enough to let Hermione sit opposite, and Hermione didn't try. She understand the concept of wanting time to read. She had taken more than enough.

"My diaries."

"I didn't mean t-"

"I know." Hermione smiled and placed the first three volumes on the desk. "I want you to read them."

Molly frowned, "Did Lily tell you to let me read them?"

"No." It was too quick. They both knew it. "Fine, yes. I agreed with the reasons that she gave."

Molly put the book she had been reading to one side and picked up the first book. "Thank you."

"A daughter should know her father. The next ones can be found in my study. I trust you can find them." If there were any tones of bitterness she hid them well. Neither of her children had the opportunity. Molly didn't comment.

Hermione turned to start to walk away before hesitating mid-step, turning her head. "Molly?"

"Yes."

"Remember not to judge us too harshly."

"Should I be worried?"

Professor Granger turned fully, her hair behind her, frizzy and messy, her robe patched and worn. It would have been an amusing, almost pitiable sight, the failing, aging academic, old beyond her years, if not for her expression. An expression of complete and utter focus, of potential power leaking beneath the surface, bubbling up to fill the space around them with crackling energy.

For a moment, Molly was reminded of just _who_ Hermione Granger really was. Not the professor, not the mother, but the warrior. The girl who stood by the boy who lived for ten long years. She was reminded of just _what_ Hermione Granger had been through. The bits that she knew were bad enough. She eyed the book with growing unease. These were the bits she didn't know.

Hermione lent closer, her voice a whisper, but no less heard because of it. "You should be terrified."

Molly was left alone until dinner that evening.

~~TDD~~

They burst into the office together, heaps of folders in their arms, the excitement and action seeming to fill the room, big grins splitting their faces.

Susan raised an eyebrow. "This had better be good."

"We've found them."

"Them?"

"One of the persons helping Harry Potter."

Susan raised an eyebrow.

Selwyn dug around the folders he had in his arms and produced a sheet of paper which he handed out.

Susan took it and froze as her eyes settled on the name at the top of the page. "He's dead."

"That's what we thought, but he's been writing books without stopping." Another piece of paper. A long list of books covering what seemed to be every topic under the sun. "And he operates at least three businesses." Another piece. "Independent research into magical creatures, plants and spells. Company for each, extensive facilties for each with private backing that we traced back to bank accounts we know belong to Harry Potter."

"You're aware of the seriousness of this claim?"

"We've always suspected that Lord Potter was more active than his appearanc-"

"It isn't about Lord Potter. It's about, well, about this." Susan tapped the piece of paper. "This person died. I watched him die. I watched the light fade from his eyes, in front of hundreds of people. You're suggesting that someone has come back from the dead for the sole purpose of providing Harry Potter with aid. On top of that, this person is a listed Category 0 subject. This is going to go straight to the top of the food chain. You have ten seconds to tell me if this is suppose to be funny."

The two Aurors looked at each other then back at her, deadly serious.

Susan eyed them up, letting them both meet her gaze.

Ten seconds passed.

Susan deflated, sank backwards into her chair and reached for the interdepartmental communication system that had been installed to save them all having to run up and down the lift for exactly this situation.

She dialled the number slowly 0 – 0 – 0 – 1. Head office. The Minister's Office.

"Madam Bones, how may I assist you?"

"Undersecretary Weatherby. I'd like to request all available information we have on a Category 0. All information on T-" she paused, glanced at the sheet once more and back at the two aurors, complete with their huge piles of folders. Evidence she presumed. Hoped. Desperately hoped. Something to make this a little less daunting, a little less preposterous. A little less terrifying.

"I didn't catch that Madam Bones. Who would you like information from"

She took a deep breath and hoped this didn't sound as ridiculous out loud as it did in her head. "Tom Marvolo Riddle."

There was silence. Complete and utter silence.


End file.
